


Master of Puppets

by SaskiaK



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Gee, Evil Mikey, F/M, Kidnapping, Psychological Torture, Threats of Violence, Torture, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:39:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: It's dark, raining and Frank's lost; hopelessly and dangerously lost - Chapter 14 posted





	1. The trap is sprung

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate universe fic. I started writing this when Bob was still in the band and I'm finally finishing it, but it's new to this site.

Frank rubbed his eyes and cursed what he saw as his own stupidity. There had been something, disturbing about the gas station attendant. At first, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. The dark, moonless night; being lost in an area he was completely unfamiliar with; the creepy, abandoned looking gas station that, despite being well off the beaten track, was unexpectedly open in the early hours of the morning – all conspired to set his nerves on edge. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong, but he had found the tall and painfully thin attendant decidedly unsettling. Why then, he wondered, had he asked for directions? And even more foolishly, why had he accepted them without question?

The road on which he was travelling had become thin and winding with no markings or distinct edges. It probably ranked marginally above a dirt track; deeply pitted and strewn with small to medium sized stones. 

When, as instructed, he had taken that left fork in the road, some five or six miles back, his instinct was telling him, no, strike that, screaming at him, to turn around. But, like most people, he ignored the voice that was desperately trying to warn him that this was a bad idea. Why? 

“Because you’re a stupid fucker, Iero, that’s why!” he snapped at himself.

He had nothing to prove and no one to laugh at him if he had made the decision to listen to his inner voice, but out of stubborn pride and refusal to accept that he was a little scared, he did nothing. It was irrational and stupid; at least, it had seemed so at the time. All Frank wanted to do was find the hotel that he had made reservations for a week earlier, but it was already clear to him that he had gone from lost to hopelessly lost in the last hour. It was late; glancing down at the dashboard clock, he was surprised to see exactly how late. Frowning as the digital display blinked at him mockingly with the unwelcome news that it was approaching two-twenty, Frank sighed noisily as the first few spots of rain began to fall. He could see from the size of the drops spattering across the windshield that it was the beginnings of a storm. Yawning, Frank reached across for the temperature controls and turned them down, hoping the cool air would help to keep him awake. Switching on the radio returned only an unpleasant hiss of static and crackling, which was almost certainly the affect of the oncoming storm. 

Frank sighed; he’d had enough. 

“That’s it! I’m getting nowhere going down this road. I’m turning around,” he said out loud, just to hear a sound that wasn’t rain, which was now battering down hard on the glass, reducing visibility to maybe one hundred yards.

Pulling over, Frank glanced from left to right and his shoulders sagged in frustration. As he had driven, the road had thinned imperceptively and now, if he could turn, it would be a very difficult manoeuvre. Edging forward, Frank pulled the car over as far as he could to give himself even a few more inches of room; it appeared that every one would count. Now positioned to attempt the turn, Frank’s eyes were drawn to the rear view mirror where he caught sight of headlights on full beam some way in the distance.

“I don’t believe this!” Frank grumbled with a disbelieving shake of his head. “No cars, no nothing for miles and now, just as I want to turn!”

Frank stared hard out of the passenger side window, peering through the rain to gauge the width of the remaining road. Satisfying himself that there was sufficient room for another car to pass by, he sat back and waited for it to pass. He felt certain that it must only have been a few seconds, but it felt like an age as he waited. Finally the car’s bright headlights filled the rear view mirror and soon, the whole of the interior of Frank’s car. Then it stopped. Frank could hear the engine being revved and see the now impossibly bright lights being flashed.

“There’s room!” he snapped, irritated by the driver’s refusal to pass. “If there’s room enough for me to turn, there’s room for you to pass.”

Inside the well-illuminated car, Frank gestured for the car behind to pass, but still received only the sounds of revving for his efforts. In an attempt to convince the other driver that he had no intention of moving, Frank switched off the car’s lights and engine. Almost as soon as he did, he saw the other car begin to move. Relieved, Frank turned to face forward once more but was horrified to see that although the car was picking up speed, the headlights still filled his mirror. 

“What the fuck…”

Frank’s whole body jarred and he was thrown forward as the car rammed him from behind, shunting his car a few feet forward. Scrambling with both the locks and the keys, Frank tried to secure the car and get it moving at the same time, but the engine refused to cooperate. 

“Come on!” Frank screamed, turning the keys in the ignition once more. 

Turning his eyes briefly to the right, he saw, in the passenger door mirror, a figure silhouetted by the headlights, moving purposefully towards his car. Already drenched by the rain, the man was quite tall, his build obscured by the bulky coat he wore. In his hands he carried something with a long handle that glinted in the bright light.

“Oh fuck! Come on! Work!” Frank almost begged the car to do as he asked.

The figure moved slowly, despite the rain, giving Frank those few precious seconds he needed. Gasping with relief as the engine caught, Frank, threw the automatic transmission into drive and pulled away as fast as he could. He knew that realistically, he only had a few seconds start on the maniac behind him and with a combination of the poor condition of the road and the torrential rain, driving at all, let alone fast, was becoming treacherous.

Realising almost immediately that his lights were still off, Frank pushed the lever to switch on to full beam. And there he was again, somehow, right in front of him, standing in the middle of the road with his arms raised, his bulky coat flapping in the wind. It was a matter of instinct from years of driving that caused Frank to step on the brakes, even though he realised that his life may well be in danger. It was one of those moments when the decision was made before he realised. With his foot still firmly on the brake, Frank turned the wheel sharply, hoping to swerve around the man and still make his escape. It would be tricky, he knew, the road was so thin at this point and the man was in the dead centre of it. But by the time the thoughts were processed in his mind, Frank was already committed to the action. Half way through the swerve, Frank screamed in terror as the head of an axe came crashing through the passenger side window, showering him with glass. His grip on the wheel tightened and again instinct forced him to turn away from the source of the attack, even though common sense told him that there was insufficient road to turn on to. 

The front driver’s side wheel clipped what passed for the edge of the road as Frank tried to turn it back out of the swerve. Losing control of the car for a few moments, Frank could only watch helplessly as the car went into a terrifying spin. The screech of tyres on the wet road only heightened his fears. Covered in shards of glass, his hands and right cheek bleeding from many small cuts and getting soaked by the driving rain coming through the shattered window, Frank’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel for dear life. His heart was still pounding as the car finally came to a halt, safely on the road, but facing almost in the opposite direction. Shaking and gasping with terror, all Frank wanted to do was take a moment to gather his wits, but he knew the luxury of time was against him. Quickly looking from side to side, Frank stepped on the gas and exhaled noisily as the car lurched forward. A threatening growl came from his right and turning his head, he saw the man gripping the broken window in the passenger side door, his fingers bleeding as he dragged his hands along the opening, desperate to keep up. Reaching inside, he brandished a long knife. Trying to keep his eyes on the road was almost impossible, but Frank knew that if he were to survive, he needed to ensure that he got past the car parked ahead of him. Pressing down hard on the pedal, Frank was more than relieved to see the arm holding the knife pull away as the man lost his battle with the sheer speed of the car. Turning back to the road, Frank braked hard and swerved again to avoid hitting what he now realised was an identically dressed second man. Unsure exactly how he had managed it, the swerve took him successfully around both man and car. Forcing himself to keep going as fast as he was able to control the car in such treacherous conditions, Frank breathed hard, taking in air into his lungs in deep gulps, as he hyperventilated with sheer panic. Frequently glancing in the rear view mirror, it was several miles before Frank was ready to accept that he wasn’t being followed. 

Slowly Frank’s breathing returned to normal, but even now he resisted the urge to stop. Instead, determined to keep going until he was ‘back in civilisation’. As he passed the gas station once more, he was deeply unnerved to see the man who, he believed, had deliberately given him directions that would send him to his certain death. He became more certain than ever, as the man stepped towards the road and waved slowly at him as he drove past.

“I gotta get away from here,” Frank said to himself nervously.  
“Yeah,” came a voice from the back seat. “If I were you, I’d want to get away too.”

Frank turned; mouth open, eyes wide, the road forgotten. A man, roughly his own age, perhaps a little older, with pale skin and messy black hair, leaned forward between the two front seats and grinned. He held no weapons, but his eyes were dark, penetrating and wild. Added to that, his grin was ever so slightly too wide to be considered truly friendly. But even without all that, his very presence was enough to scare Frank more even than the previous incident.

“I’m Gerard.”

It was the last thing Frank heard.


	2. Frank wakes up

Frank stretched out his legs and pushed his shoulders back. It was at that moment he realised that he ached. His back was stiff and sore and his arms and legs felt leaden and uncooperative. Rolling over, his eyes flew open as he became aware that he was teetering on the edge of a couch. Somewhere within the room, hidden, he heard a soft giggle. Turning back once more onto the cushions allowed him to get his bearings. Pushing himself upright and then to his feet, Frank took in the room. It was something straight out of a mystery movie. The ceiling was unusually high with fancy moulded coving. Two large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, years of dust dulling the light from the few remaining bulbs that still worked. The only wall that was not panelled in mahogany was covered in dark burgundy striped wallpaper, which, coupled with the dim light, only added to the sense of mystery. The room’s furnishings were an odd mixture of styles suggesting that the owner had either very eclectic taste or none whatsoever. Chinese rugs covered the floor, above which, near one of the panelled walls, stood a heavy colonial-style desk with a high-backed black leather chair. On the other side of the room, a glass-topped table with two small wicker couches opposite each other. Where Frank had woken was a deep, comfortable and unmistakeably expensive couch made of very fine and soft black leather. In addition, large and overly ornate, gold damask silk chaise-long stood in front of the heavy burgundy velvet drapes adorning the window.

“Where the hell am I?” Frank wondered out loud.

Again, a soft giggle, almost a whisper filtered into the room. The first time it had happened, Frank had almost believed he had imagined it, but this time there was no question in his mind.

“Who’s there?” he called out. 

Waiting a few moments for a reply that never came, Frank tried again.

“Who’s there? Where am I?”

Frank’s reply was mostly silence, punctuated by small chuckles that were definitely made by at least two people. 

To say that Frank was unnerved by what was happening would be to severely understate the situation. He recalled the misdirection he had received from the decidedly creepy gas station attendant; the terrifying attack by two men armed with an axe and a knife; and finally the strange young man, calling himself Gerard, who had suddenly appeared in a car he believed to be locked. It had been the last thing he remembered until now. And now, the bizarre experiences were continuing and he’d had enough.

“Who are you?” he shouted angrily.

Silence.

He wasn’t going to wait to find out. Frank was scared and he wasn’t afraid to admit it this time. Turning on his heels with the intention of heading straight for the door, he almost collided with the Gerard.

“Hello, Frank,” Gerard said cheerily, but with an icy stare in his eyes that almost looked straight through him.  
“H…How…” Frank stammered, still shocked by the sudden appearance of the strange man. Taking a step back to maintain his personal space, he bumped into a second man.

Frank paled, this was too weird; people just didn’t behave like this, well, not normal people anyway. Once again, he was afraid for his life. Glancing over his shoulder, Frank’s eyes were drawn upwards to see the tall man who had him sandwiched between himself and Gerard. He was tall and thin, bordering on fragile and he bore a remarkable likeness to Gerard. Stepping to the side, Frank turned to face the two men, setting his balance and gathering his wits. Only now that he could see him properly did Frank recognise the taller of the two men as the gas station attendant who had sent him into the ambush, and with it, he realised that he was in deep trouble. 

With eyes darting between the two men, Frank took another step back as he spoke.

“Where am I? Who are you? What do you want?”  
“Sit down, Frank.” Gerard’s voice sounded friendly and yet at the same time, it was a voice that demanded attention. Not so much threatening as intimidating.  
“How do you…” Frank began, but trailed off as he patted his pocket and realised that his wallet was missing. “You have my wallet?”  
“Sit down, Frank,” Gerard repeated, ignoring Frank’s questions.

Gerard rolled his eyes as Frank darted across the room towards the door. Flopping down onto the huge leather couch, Gerard hummed a tune quietly to himself as Frank franticly pulled and pushed the solid mahogany door to no avail. Turning with his back to the door, Frank stared at the back of Gerard’s head, watching in frustration as the man lounged on the couch, either oblivious or indifferent to his distress. The second man, now sitting atop the desk, allowing his long thin legs to dangle and swing, offered him a sardonic smile and pointed to the window. 

Frank’s heart sank. They were toying with him, there was no escape and they knew it. Worse still, they wanted him to know it. Walking slowly and carefully over to the window, with the thin man’s eyes on him all the way, Frank pushed aside the heavy drapes. His fears were realised as he saw the thick steel bars set firmly into the frame. There was no way out; he was trapped.

“Sit down, Frank.”

Frank balled his fists in frustration at the simple request repeated so many times. He knew he had no choice in the matter, but it angered him. He knew that he had been unfortunate to be travelling down that lonely road, but the rest, they had planned. The question he didn’t want to ask was – what did they want?

“Let me tell you how this works,” Gerard sighed with the air of a man used to getting his own way. “I tell you what to do and you do it. It’s very simple.”  
“Simple,” repeated the man sitting on the desk, now grinning at Frank.  
“And if I don’t?” Frank sounded braver than he felt.

The man sitting on top of the desk lost his smile and shook his head lightly. In that brief moment, Frank found himself on all fours, gasping through the pain across his shoulder blades. He knew it had been a fist, but it had come out of nowhere with the force of a hammer blow. Crumpling to his right, Frank leaned on his elbow and breathed slowly and shallowly until the pain subsided. To his left he could see a pair of legs. Without even looking up, he knew they belonged to one of the men who had attacked him in his car. He had to assume they were a group of at least four men, but what they wanted with him, he couldn’t begin to know.

“Does that answer your question?” Gerard asked as Frank was hauled to his feet and dragged to the leather couch.

Gerard looked up and smiled a patronizing smile. Frank was scared, he could see that, but he was defiant too; he liked that in a victim.

“I expect you to answer me,” Gerard clarified.  
Frank narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, that answers my question.”  
“Good!” Gerard replied in an artificially cheerful voice. “Now, sit.”

The man holding him wasted no time in throwing him forcefully into the opposite end of the couch from Gerard.

“Gently, Bob, gently,” Gerard’s voice almost dripped like honey. “We don’t want to hurt our guest unnecessarily, do we?”  
“Unnecessarily?” Frank snapped, receiving only a broad smile from Gerard in reply. “Who are you?”  
“My name is Gerard and this,” he indicated the thin man, “is my brother, Mikey.”  
“Where am I?” Frank asked, surprised to finally be getting answers to some of his questions.  
“You are a guest in my house,” Gerard answered in an easy tone.  
“I’m a prisoner in your house.” Frank corrected, his expression hardened.  
“Yes,” Gerard nodded. “Yes you are. Do you have any other questions?”  
“You don’t just say that like it’s an everyday occurrence and expect me to just accept it, do you?” Frank bristled, turning on the couch to face Gerard.

Gerard merely stared back in return. The expression on his face suggested that the thought that it might be considered a problem hadn’t even occurred to him.

“You don’t have a choice,” Gerard finally stated in a blunt and unemotional tone. “Now, if you don’t have any more questions…”  
“What do you want from me?” Frank interrupted.

Gerard smiled as he pondered the question and considered whether or not to answer him.

“Shall I?” he asked, the question was directed to his brother, who now jumped down from the desk and sauntered over. 

Sitting on the arm of the couch nearest Frank and lounging back so that he looked as if he had been casually draped across it, Mikey offered his brother a broad smile as Frank edged subtly away from him as he found himself sandwiched between them once more. Knowing now that they were brothers made the similarities between them even more pronounced than before. Mikey’s smile was not as darkly sinister as his brother’s and it may have just been his imagination, but even having heard him say only one word, Frank had the distinct impression that Mikey was, perhaps, a little unhinged. He realised that it wasn’t in anything he had or could say, but his actions, manner and an unnerving stare that never quite looked at you, so much as through you.

“I prefer it when you don’t,” Mikey replied with a chuckle.

In that single sentence, Frank’s fears soared. This was a game to them; a cruel sadistic game, and one they had clearly played many times before.

“You’re right,” Gerard nodded. “Why spoil the fun?”

Mikey grinned broadly as he slid off the couch and stood, almost threateningly above Frank.

“Can I take him?” he asked cheerfully.

Frank’s head jerked up at the question. He had no idea what he meant and was utterly convinced that he didn’t want to find out.

“Mikey,” Gerard admonished. “You’re scaring our guest… much more than he needs to be. Bob will take him to his room. Bob?”

The tall broad man who had delivered the crushing blow to Frank’s back earlier stepped forward silently.

“Bob,” Gerard began again. “Take him downstairs, see that he’s comfortable and has something to eat.”

Grabbing Frank by the arm, Bob pulled him out of the deep couch and held him firm as Gerard looked up at him.

“Yes, I think this will work out just fine. Mikey?”  
“I’m excited already,” the thin man replied.

Without a further word, Bob began to drag Frank from the room.

“What is this?” Frank yelled as he was pulled away. “What do you want from me? Tell me!”


	3. Frank meets another prisoner

Drawing a key from his pocket, Bob unlocked the heavy mahogany door, gripping Frank by his arm; his fingers digging painfully into Frank’s bicep. Twisting, or at least, trying to twist out of his grip, Frank tried to lever his fingers under Bob’s. With the door now open, Bob shook Frank violently, hurting him, as he dragged him through. Pushing Frank’s hand away, Bob stared harshly at him, pulling him to a stop in the middle of the lavishly decorated entrance hall.

“I’m to take you downstairs,” Bob reminded him in a much kinder voice than he expected. “How you get there, is up to me. All they ask is that you stay alive.”

Frank and Bob stared at each other for a few moments. There seemed something strange about the way that Bob was dealing with the task. He was neither threatening nor intimidating, neither was he a fool, blindly following orders. There appeared to be something genuinely apologetic about Bob’s manner and his warning was just that. What he had been asked to do, he would do, no more and no less, and by whatever means were necessary.

“You work for them?” Frank asked, his struggles long since halted.

Bob gave the impression of thinking about the question for a few moments before responding.

“No,” he replied simply without further explanation. With a slight tug on Frank’s arm, he began to head off once more. “Come on.”

Turning his head, Frank looked longingly at the main entrance to the house, only a few yards away.

“It’s locked,” Bob announced, as if reading his thoughts. “Don’t make me hurt you.”  
“What do they want? You say you don’t work for them, but you’re helping them! Willingly!”

It was possible that the statement touched a raw nerve. It was equally possible that Bob just grew tired of listening. His fist connected with Frank’s jaw making an unpleasant popping sound as Frank’s upper and lower jaw slammed together. A faint cry of pain escaped his lips as his knees buckled under him. Lifting his arm, Bob hauled the unconscious man over his shoulder and continued on his way.

“Feisty little thing, isn’t he?” Gerard remarked from the doorway.  
“Won’t be for long,” Mikey replied, his hands positioned on his brother’s left shoulder, his fingers interlaced and his chin resting on top.  
“No,” Gerard agreed with a smirk. “Not for long.”

*

Frank grimaced as he felt his right cheek, swollen and painful. The left side of his bottom lip protruded uncomfortably and the dried blood caked to his chin flaked away at his touch. His eyes were still closed and both their stickiness and the throbbing pain in his head conspired to keep them that way. Letting out a low groan he pushed his shoulders back and the vertebrae of his spine crackled unforgivingly. Gasping at the pain of the motion, Frank tried once more to force his eyes open.

“Are you all right?”

The voice coming from his left filtered through into his consciousness and Frank slowly turned his head as his eyes partly opened and he squinted in the dim light.

“You don’t look all right.” 

A slender young man seated on a low bed leaned forward resting his elbows on his legs, his hands clasped in front of him. He seemed at least thirty, maybe more. His face, framed by a shoulder length mop of frizzy mid-brown hair, would have been handsome but for an intense underlying anguish that manifested itself in his eyes. 

“You think?” Frank croaked. “And I had dinner plans for tonight.”  
“Dinner?” the young man laughed bitterly. “No, you can kiss that goodbye.”

Frank slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, taking time to balance himself as the room began to spin at the exertion.

“I don’t think kissing will be on my agenda for some time either,” Frank remarked, putting his hand to his swollen lip once more. Glancing around the tiny room and the solid looking barred door, Frank frowned deeply.  
“What are you doing here?” The young man held a semi-clenched fist up to his mouth and eyed his new companion suspiciously.

Frank cocked his head to one side. Given their circumstances, it seemed a strange thing to ask. 

“What do you want?” The man pushed for a reply, as he leaned forward. “Tell me! Whatever it is, you won’t get it! I’ve had enough!” Slumping back onto the bunk, he let his head drop forward. “More than enough.”  
Taken aback by the man’s reaction, Frank hesitated momentarily before replying. “My name’s Frank, what’s yours?”  
Shaking his head, sadly, he answered. “Ok, I’ll play. I’m Ray.”   
“What do you mean? ‘You’ll play’,” Frank asked, somewhat bewildered by the strange conversation. 

Ray looked Frank in the eyes. His own expression was one of deep sadness and pain. Perhaps it was something in Frank’s own sympathetic eyes, or perhaps it was simply that he could take no more, but Ray dropped his head into his hands and allowed his tears to flow freely and unashamedly.

“Hey!” Frank cried, dropping to one knee in front of the clearly troubled young man. “Come on, we’ll get out of this, you have to believe that.”

Ray lifted his head, wiped the tears from his cheeks and frowned. 

“You know, it’s not going to be that easy.” Pushing back on the bed, Ray leaned back against the wall. “I know why you’re here!”  
“Good, that saves me a question,” Frank replied flatly, sitting back on his heels.  
“What?” Ray replied, confused. “Who are you? What do you want from me now?”  
“Your accent… You’re from Jersey, aren’t you?” Frank asked, ignoring his question. “So am I,” he added with a friendly smile and a shrug.   
“Really?” Ray returned with a weak smile, but it was still obvious that he believed that Frank was lying to him. “They’ll try any angle, won’t they?”  
“Look, Ray, it’s pretty clear that you have some sort of weird agenda going on here, but all I want to know is, where are we, who brought us here and how we get out.”

Ray’s brow furrowed as he stared at Frank before shouting his reply as his eyes darted around the room.

“You’re not going to catch me out again! I fell for it once, but not this time!”

Rising to his feet, Frank momentarily took a step back as the young man cowered back into the corner.

“Please don’t!” Drawing up his legs, Ray raised his left arm protectively. “Please!”  
“Ray!” Frank grabbed hold of his companion’s wrist and sat down beside him. “I don’t know who you think I am or what I’m here for, but you’re wrong. Okay? I just want to get out of here.”  
“No,” Ray shook his head as he snatched his hand out of Frank’s grip. “I’m not stupid! But you know that, don’t you? That’s why I’m here!”  
“Ray!” Frank yelled in frustration. “Will you just listen to me?”

The frightened young man chewed his bottom lip as he stared at the man seated next to him. 

“You don’t work for him, do you?” he asked nervously.  
“If you mean Gerard, no, I don’t work for him. I’m not exactly a willing guest either.” Frank replied kindly. “Now, I need you to tell me where we are.”  
“Look around!” Ray sat forward once more and waved his arm to indicate their surroundings. Frank took in the cold stone walls; low, thin mattressed beds and heavy steel barred door. “We’re in a cell.”

Frank sighed and got to his feet, examining the barred door as he spoke.

“I can see that, but where? And why? Ray,” Frank turned to see his companion now standing in the centre of the cell. “Do you know where we are or who brought us here?”  
Shaking his head, Ray took to his bunk once more, leaning back against the wall and crossing his legs.

“I don’t know where we are but, as for who, all I know is, his name’s Gerard.”

Frank stared with sympathy into the eyes of the troubled young man suddenly realising that it seemed that he had been there a long time; long enough to be genuinely afraid.

“How long have you been here, Ray?”  
“What’s the date?” he asked quietly without looking up.  
“May 20th,” Frank replied.

Ray’s eyes closed briefly. It appeared to Frank as if Ray’s entire countenance sagged under some new or remembered burden. It wasn’t until he spoke again that Frank realised why.

“What year?” he asked with a tone of hopelessness in his voice.

Frank frowned, uncertain if he really wanted to answer Ray’s question.

“It’s 2009.”  
“Still?” Ray glanced up, his expression one of bewilderment. Adding a distracted sigh he continued: “Just short of two years then. Seems so much longer.”  
“Two years? In here? Do you ever get out?”  
“No, not really,” he shook his head. “Well, sometimes, but…” Ray broke off and turned to the wall, tucking his legs under his chin.  
“Ray? What? What happened?”

Seeming to be seized with terror, Ray merely shook his head, briefly, yet vigorously.

“Ray!” Frank placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the wall.  
“No!” Ray cried as he scrambled from the bed and backed in the corner of the cell. “Leave me alone! I can’t tell you any more!”  
“I just want to know…” Frank was cut off abruptly as the frightened young man sank to the floor; clearly in pain, he gripped his temples and rocked on his heels.  
“I didn’t tell him! Please!”

Frank knelt and held Ray’s upper arms gently.

“What’s happening to you?” Frank gasped, unsure what to do or say.  
“Please stop!” Ray begged pushing Frank away and scrambling away to the opposite side of the cell. “Don’t ask me any more! He won’t allow it.”

A second wave of agonising pain hit and Ray was left breathless as he crumpled to the floor.

“Who’s doing this to you?” Frank demanded as he rolled Ray onto his back and settled a pillow from his own bunk under his head.  
“Please stop,” Ray whispered in return. “It can’t do either of us any good.”  
“Okay! Okay!” Frank stood and stepped back, fearful for his companion. “I won’t ask you any more, I promise.” 

Ray rolled onto his side and curled up into a protective ball.

“He’ll kill me, he barely needs me now.”

Frank stood, frustrated by this new revelation and his promise not to question further.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him,” Frank replied sternly.  
Ray offered a small, nervous laugh. “He does what he wants, when he wants and to whom he wants. That’s what I’ve given him. That’s my doing. I’m afraid of death, but it’s what I deserve.”  
“Then maybe I should grant your wish, Doctor Toro?” Gerard’s voice sounded from beyond the barred door.

Ray’s head snapped up to face the man standing beyond the doorway; the young man’s breathing now stilted and erratic.

“I’m sorry…”  
“I know you are, Doctor,” Gerard grinned, turning a dial on the small remote he held, “and that’s why this is so hard for me.”  
“No! Please!”

Ray threw himself into a tight ball and stiffened every muscle in his back to protect himself against the coming onslaught of pain.

“Hey!” Frank shouted. “If you have a problem, then it’s with me! I pushed him to answer my questions.”  
“No!” Ray shouted terrified by the remark. “You don’t know what he’ll do to you!”  
“Don’t worry,” Gerard scoffed. “I’ll get to your new friend all in good time.”

Frank’s eyes opened wide as he witnessed the unparalleled agony Ray appeared to be suffering.

“Stop it!” Frank yelled, torn between screaming directly through the barred door and comforting Ray in his distress. “You’re killing him!”  
“Oh, no, despite what he says, I would never do that,” Gerard corrected, smiling as he clicked a button on the remote. 

Ray gasped suddenly and fell limp; released from his torment.

“He’s far too valuable to me.”


	4. Ray's story

Frank looked away from Gerard – the man Ray was so desperately afraid of and turned his eyes toward his cellmate. The sight of him wrenched at Frank’s heart. Pale and shaking, Ray lay still, clearly exhausted. Occasionally his shoulders shook as if sobbing, but his eyes were dry and he remained silent but for his erratic breathing. Glancing back towards Gerard, Frank’s eyes narrowed.

“You…”  
“You should be careful with your words, Frank, and how angry they may make me. You’d be surprised how much pain he can take.”

Frank scowled. At an obvious disadvantage, all he wanted to do at this moment was to protect the man at his feet. He would, he promised himself, get his chance soon enough. To peels of harsh laughter, fading as Gerard left the pair alone, Frank knelt at Ray’s side.

“Ray?” He spoke softly, lifting the young man until he rested against his knee. “Are you ok?”  
Ray nodded. “I could use some water. On the table.”  
“Sure,” Frank seemed momentarily uncertain whether it was safe to leave Ray unattended, even to walk such a small distance for the water.  
“I’m fine, really,” Ray confirmed with a nod as he pushed himself into a sitting position so that Frank could stand. “It’s not the first time. Won’t be the last.”  
“It will be if I can help it!”

Ray laughed. It wasn’t a derisory laugh, nor unkind, but the touching reaction of someone who had had the spirit torn from him and knew exactly what lay in store for his defiant companion.  
Returning with a plastic beaker full of water, Frank settled on his bunk as Ray leaned back against the wall and sipped the cold liquid.

“Doctor Ray Toro?”

Ray looked up from the water and nodded.

“I’ve heard of you, but I can’t remember why.”  
Ray smiled wistfully. “I probably got a mention in the news once or twice, can’t imagine they said anything complimentary, either.”  
“What happened?” 

Ray frowned, not just at the memory of it, but of how distant it all seemed.

“I’d done a lot of research into animal communication. Not just training, you understand, but actual communication. You know how the Navy uses dolphins and seals? Well, my research took that to the next level. In the end, we were able to actually communicate what we wanted them to do directly. You understand? Not a series of learned commands, but real communication. We learned so much in return too; they actually spoke to us in return. Well, not spoke exactly,” Ray corrected himself as he noticed Frank’s incredulous expression, “I mean we could decipher their brain patterns and sounds to really understand them.”  
“That’s amazing! They sure kept that under wraps!”  
“If only they had! There was a leak in the department somewhere, but I’ll get to that. I was asked if I’d be willing to consider expanding my research to see if it could be adapted to help long term criminals and violent re-offenders to… well, change their lifestyle.”  
“Excuse me? You’re saying you were asked to make a device that controlled people?”  
Ray sighed. “In essence, yes, but that wasn’t the way it was presented to me.”  
“Don’t you think you may have been a little naïve to think otherwise?”  
“Yes, I don’t deny it, but you have to understand, I’d never been in the real world, always in the lab. I was a thirty-year-old idealist. Well, I… I’m thirty-two now, well, nearly, but yes I guess I look older now, don’t I?”  
Frank offered a sympathetic smile. “So, you did the research?”  
“Yes and it was nearly complete. I thought I was doing a good thing, something beneficial, right up until they wanted to test it.”  
“You’re kidding me? They wanted to test it out on people?”  
“Murderers on Death Row. They said they were volunteers, that they’d rather risk dying that way but would take the chance that it worked and be granted a pardon.”  
Frank pursed his lips as he considered the words. “I kinda see their logic, but it’s still…”  
“Inhuman?” Ray suggested. “You couldn’t imagine what the first tests did to them. Slow, painful deaths, some were driven insane. Not one. Not one saved! I couldn’t allow it to continue, it was too much of a sacrifice.” Ray leaned forward, now staring at his hands, not daring to look Frank in the eyes. “I… I told them it had to stop. I wouldn’t be party to it any more. I was going to take my research and destroy it. I saw there and then that even if it succeeded, it was utterly wrong and open to abuse. They told me that I was working for them, that my research belonged to them and so did I.” Ray shook his head. “They thought I was under their control! But, I guess, in reality, I was. Suddenly, I found my lab guarded, I was followed everywhere. I was even assigned a new assistant, who left me in no doubt what was required of me.”  
“I have to be honest,” Frank frowned, “I find this a little far fetched.”  
“I know. Even I can’t believe it and it happened to me!” With a shaking hand, Ray raised the cup to his mouth once more and took another sip of water. “One night, I managed to slip away from my assistant and back to the lab. I should have realised then that something was wrong, when I saw the guard was gone. I thought it was a stroke of luck, but it was a trap and I walked straight into it. No sooner had I entered the lab than I saw Gerard gathering together my research notes, he had my laptop, everything. I tried to stop him, but as it turned out I hadn’t given my assistant the slip at all.”  
“He followed you in?”  
“No,” Ray shook his head. “He was already there, behind me with a taser. I was out cold in seconds.”  
“He was working for Gerard?”  
“I don’t know,” the young man shook his head once more. “He betrayed me to him certainly, but I don’t know the extent of his involvement. I haven’t seen him since.”  
“That’s right! I know where I’ve heard your name!” Frank got to his feet and began to pace. “They said that you’d stolen the research and gone underground.”  
Ray looked up and rolled his eyes. “Well, I certainly went underground! I don’t remember the last time I saw daylight! Anyway, how could I steal it? It was my research!” Ray sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t steal anything. I was kidnapped and I’ve been here ever since.”  
Frank frowned. “But then you gave them what they needed to finish the research.”  
“No!” Ray was insistent. “No, I gave them nothing and I think he thought he could finish it without me. That’s the reason I think it’s possible my assistant may still be involved. I was kept here, alone. No clock, nothing to do, very little food. Months went by. I think he thought it would drive me crazy. The loneliness, that I’d do anything to help him if he needed it. Well, he did need it and I still refused. A couple more months went by and then, I guess they’d made some progress, because one day, they came and beat me till I collapsed. When I woke up, there was an implant in my cortex. He couldn’t control me, but he could hurt me. He spent the next few months systematically torturing me. He wasn’t joking about the amount of pain I can bear. I’ve learned a lot here, you know. He just kept on and I held back. I’d seen too much when I was still working on it. No amount of pain would make me give in.”  
“But they found something else?” Frank’s voice was now edged with sympathy on hearing everything Ray had suffered.

Ray nodded unhappily. 

“That guy, Bob, he was brought into the cell with me, said he was an electrical engineer. He told me that they’d kidnapped him and told him he was here to build something, but he didn’t know what. He seemed genuine, really afraid. There’s not much to do in here except talk and, that’s what we did. Before too long, he found out what it was that would make me help Gerard and as soon as he knew, he was out of here and I realised I’d been duped.”  
“What did he do?” asked Frank, astonished by the depths to which Gerard was prepared to sink to get what he wanted, but at least it explained Ray’s suspicious response to him when he first arrived.  
“Well, it was why I tried to quit in the first place. He realised he could use the same thing to force me to help him.”

Frank placed a sympathetic hand on Ray’s shoulder as he continued:

“A string of people were brought in and tortured while he made me watch. With every mistake, the device failed and another person died. It was killing me too. When I wasn’t working, he was torturing me, hurting me, mocking me. I couldn’t concentrate. Then…” Ray’s voice trailed off momentarily. “Then, I found it.”  
“What?” Frank asked, totally absorbed by Ray’s tale.  
“It leapt out at me, what was wrong and what I could do to correct it. I could make the device he needed and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”  
“You were afraid?”

Ray nodded and looked away, unable to look Frank in the eyes.

“I’d made the scientific discovery of the age and I was terrified. I knew what he’d do with it but if I didn’t give it to him, he’d keep torturing and killing people. What could I do? I had no choice. Tell me I had no choice. Please, it’s really hard for me to keep my perspective. I’ve been locked in here for so long and suffered so much mental and physical pain, I really don’t know if I made the wrong decision.”  
“You gave him the device?” Frank asked quietly.

Ray nodded, with a barely audible ‘yeah’.

“You had no choice, Ray. Really, there was nothing you could do.”

Ray looked up at Frank; his shoulders dropped as some of the tension in him released.

“So, why are you here?” he asked.  
“I don’t know,” Frank admitted.  
“What do you do?” Ray asked with a nervous edge to his tone.  
“I’m a psychologist,” Frank replied. 

Ray frowned; the connection wasn’t obvious.

“I was on my way to address a conference when I got lost looking for my hotel,” Frank added, hoping the information might be helpful.  
“The Adelphi, by any chance?” Ray asked knowingly.  
“Yeah,” Frank stared, “how did you know?”  
“Doesn’t exist,” Ray explained with distaste. “Another one of his deceptions. I don’t know what he wants now, but I’m pretty sure you’re here because of your work. I’m sorry.”  
“Why are you sorry?”  
“Because whatever it is, whatever he wants from you… I’ve given him the means to force you to do it.”

As the words sank in, the pair sat in silence. Their situation seemed hopeless.


	5. Frank is tortured (Warning: Not for the squeamish!)

It had been a long night, in more ways than one. Frank had been tired as he drove; the attack had pushed adrenalin through his veins keeping him artificially alert. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious but it was still dark when he woke. Finally the encounter with Ray had drained him emotionally. Frank was exhausted. After convincing Ray to rest, Frank lay down for just a few moments; he had no intention of falling asleep, but of course, his body had other ideas. His tired aching muscles and overworked brain made the decision for him. Within moments he slipped into a deep sleep.

*

“What are you going to do?”  
“I haven’t decided yet.” The voice paused. “You can stay and watch if you want.”  
“Maybe for a little while.”  
“He’s waking up.”  
“How can you tell?”  
“Gee,” the voice laughed. “How long have I been doing this?”  
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” came another laugh in reply. “I don’t doubt it for a moment. I was just wondering how you know.”  
“Look at his brow.”  
“What about it?”  
“It’s starting to furrow. He’s not quite awake, but already he knows that something’s wrong. The body is a marvellous thing, see how it reacts to the most subtle of attacks.’  
“Mikey,” Gerard laughed again. “I don’t think that being hung by your ankles from the ceiling is a subtle attack.”   
“Maybe not,” Mikey agreed, “but sometimes you got to take a more direct approach.”

Frank’s brow furrowed further; something felt very wrong indeed. The blinding headache was the first thing he noticed, and the feeling of extreme nausea. But it wasn’t until he tried to move that he was dragged sharply and cruelly from the relative security and comfort of sleep.

“What the…” Frank began as he tried to take in his situation. “Fuck! What the hell is this!”  
“You really need to know?” Mikey asked with a genuinely curious tone. “If you must… you’re suspended by your feet from the ceiling with your hands behind…”  
“I fucking know where I am!” Frank yelled, struggling, angry and frustrated.  
“Well,” Mikey shrugged, “you did ask.”  
“What do you want?”

Gerard chuckled and sat down on grand looking carved wooden chair.

“Aww, Mikes, it looks like he’s going to give in pretty quickly, he’s already asking you what you want.”  
“Oh no, dear brother,” Mikey crouched a little so he could be face to face with Frank, who dangled roughly four feet from the floor. “You’re not giving in, are you Frankie?”  
“Don’t call me that,” Frank spat through gritted teeth.  
“Your friends call you Frankie,” Mikey reasoned as he straightened up once more and slowly began to turn Frank, twisting the long chains that held his feet to the ceiling.  
“Yeah, they do, but you’re…” 

Frank paused as he realised that Ray was right. Part of him had wanted him to be wrong, that it was a random, wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time attack, but it was far from being that. 

“You’ve been watching me?”  
“For weeks,” Mikey grinned as he dropped down to face Frank again. “Do you really think that conference you were going to address was genuine? We would have been very lucky to for that to have happened on its own, wouldn’t we?”

Frank closed his eyes and pulled bitterly on the handcuffs holding his arms behind him.

“Yeah, you feel a fool right now.” Mikey taunted. “But don’t, we’ve been planning this for years, you can’t blame yourself.”  
“What do you want from me?”  
“Nothing,” Mikey replied almost as if the very suggestion was outrageous.  
“You must want something,” Frank argued, part of him feared that they may genuinely want nothing and he was merely another victim to force Ray’s hand with some other piece of technology.  
“Well, yes, but not just yet,” Mikey stood up and pushed Frank as hard as he could. Stepping back, beyond reach of the return swing, Frank twisted and jerked as the chains unravelled. Swinging helplessly under the momentum of Mikey’s fierce push, Frank groaned loudly as the feeling of nausea heightened and a burning acrid taste filled his mouth. His eyes tightly shut, Frank had no idea that the final swing would take him directly into the path of a baseball bat held at chest level. He gasped with pain and breathlessness as his entire body jarred from the sudden sharp stop.

“Right now, Frankie,” Mikey patted Frank’s cheek as he struggled for breath. “What I really want is for enough of your blood to drop to the floor so that I can write my name. And that’s a lot of blood, Frankie. I’ve got three names, and I write big.”  
“Why?” he wheezed faintly.  
“Are you familiar with the concept of ‘forewarned is forearmed’?” Mikey asked as he opened a large flat wooden box roughly the size of a briefcase. “Well?” he prompted.  
“Yeah,” Frank replied quietly as finally his breathing became easier.

Mikey looked up from the open box, nodding to himself, he selected a small item and held it hidden from view.

“Well then,” he said as he turned back to face Frank, “if I tell you, won’t it give you an advantage that I don’t want you to have?”  
Frank shook his head. “Advantage? I’m hanging upside-down from…”

Frank broke off as a pained scream burst from his lips. He wasn’t certain if it was the pain or the shock that caused the scream to be as loud as it was, but the sound drew a satisfied smirk from Mikey. In Frank’s left palm, Mikey had placed the small object taken from the box on the table – a razor blade. Forcing Frank’s hand into a fist once more caused yet another agonised scream as it sliced deep into his palm – some new cuts and aggravating the existing open wounds from a few seconds earlier. Blood poured from the hand as Frank hung limply, sagging under the weight of the overwhelming pain. Mikey pulled at his fingers, opening up the palm once more causing Frank to whimper as the fresh and profusely bleeding wounds were forced open. Gently extricating the razor blade, Mikey carefully dipped it, with a pair of tongs, into what appeared to be a tub of water alongside the box. Removing it only moments later, he examined it carefully before wiping it and placing it back in the box.

“What’s that?” Gerard asked with a tone steeped with curiosity.  
“It’s an acid bath, it gets all the blood and tissue off,” he explained.  
“Clever,” Gerard grinned.  
Mikey turned, pleased by the compliment, and explained further. “It keeps it sterile too.”  
“Yeah,” Gerard grinned sarcastically, “you don’t want to use dirty tools for torture, that just wouldn’t be right.”  
Mikey pouted at the comment. “Dirt blunts the edges,” he added. Dropping down to face Frank again, Mikey noticed that his eyes were misted with pain-induced tears. “You wouldn’t want me cutting you with blunt knives would you?”

Frank was fairly certain it was a question he couldn’t seriously be expected to answer and right now, was in too much pain to care. It wasn’t until Mikey raised his voice to a scream that Frank was jarred into replying.

“Would you!” Mikey yelled at him, his face only inches from Frank’s.  
“Fuck you!” Frank yelled back in return with a frustrated twist against the chains that held him.

Mikey’s expression darkened and his lips pulled tight in anger. Straightening up once more, Mikey turned back to the box. As he ran a finger above the contents, occasionally he would pause and turn his gaze back to Frank before shaking his head before returning to the box.

“That was a big mistake, you know,” Gerard confided. “You got him angry now.”  
“Fuck you, too!” Frank snapped back.  
“Please, Gerard, no warnings. The beauty and art with this is the fear of the unknown. The surprise, or rather the shock,” Mikey crouched to face Frank once more, pulling a blindfold over his eyes, tying it tightly behind his head. “The fear of not knowing what or when is very compelling.”

Frank’s lips parted in surprise as the manacles around his ankles suddenly grew tighter, constricting around the bone and delicate tendons. Searing pain coursed down Frank’s calves forcing him to hang perfectly still. The crushing grip stopped just short of fracturing his bones, but by now the pain was simply agonising. Tucking his chin in close to his neck, Frank alternately grimaced and snatched at breaths. 

“Apologise to my brother,” Mikey demanded.

Frank said nothing. He knew, deep down, that they were just words, that he could say them without feeling or meaning, but his pride and fear resolved themselves to keep him silent. Even he knew it was a stupid move.

“I can make them tighten more, I don’t need you to be able to walk, you know,” Mikey explained. “Apologise.”

Frank no longer knew what was preventing him from saying anything but he knew when he felt Mikey step back that he had been a fool. He had told him already, fear of the unknown, but Frank had known what was coming and he still feared it. But, forewarned didn’t help. Frank braced himself for a bone-cracking attack on his ankles, but when the bat smacked hard into the back of his knees, was reset and a frontal assault launched, Frank’s resulting screams filled the room; each one broadening Mikey’s smile further. 

“You’re still not bleeding enough, Frankie and none of it is reaching the floor. It’s all running down to your clothes. I’m going to have to slit your throat, aren’t I?”  
“No!” Frank half screamed, half begged. “Please, what do you want?”

Mikey smiled self-assuredly at Gerard, who grinned back and nodded; it was working.

Tearing a strip of tape, Mikey pressed it over Frank’s lips before securing it with a long piece of cloth tied at the nape of his neck.

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to… oh, but if I say, you’ll be prepared.”

Frank, gagged and blindfolded, was unable to reply or determine the source of the scraping sound he heard beneath him. Another sound filled his ears; that too was familiar, but for the moment, he was unable to place it. Mikey waited a few more moments, watching Frank breathe; snatching his breaths with a rise and fall of his chest. Finally, as his chest fell, Mikey pushed a lever and the ratchet holding the chains turned twice, dropping Frank almost to the floor. The surprise of falling paled into insignificance against the shock Frank received as his head and shoulders plunged into a barrel of icy cold water. Forced to struggle, to try to pull himself clear, Frank’s ankles exploded with excruciating pain, almost enough to make him pass out. But he couldn’t, he would die, drowned at the hands of a psychopath with a sadistic flair for torture. Having breathed out shortly before being plunged into the icy and deadly vat, Frank, felt his lungs would burst under the pressure. Lights danced behind his blindfolded eyes and his shoulders fell limp, moments before the ratchets creaked again and he was jerked sharply from the water. 

Breathing in a huge lungful of air, Frank began to cough violently against the gag as he also breathed in some of the water left in his nose from the dunking. As he coughed, the ratchet was released again and for only a few seconds this time, he found himself struggling shoulder deep in the icy water once more. Again pulled sharply free from the water, Frank hung limply.

“Is he dead?” Gerard asked sitting forward in the chair. “Mikey, I needed him alive, broken, but alive.”  
“He’s fine,” Mikey commented as he pushed aside the barrel of water. “He’s just how you wanted.”

Releasing the ratchets fully, Frank crashed to the floor, landing on his back with a faint groan.

“See?” Mikey added as proof of Frank’s survival became audible to them both. “He’s ready. Didn’t take too much, did it?”


	6. Bob's story

Ray stood back against the wall, an expression of concern firmly fixed on his face as Frank was unceremoniously dumped onto his bunk.

“Bob?” Ray began as the blond man closed and locked the door. “What do they want?”

Bob turned his eyes to look directly at Ray; there was a deep sadness in his eyes that Ray had never noticed before. Something was troubling him, but it seemed that he wasn’t prepared to go into any detail.

“I cleaned up his hand and I got someone to stitch the cuts. He’ll be really sore when he wakes and… he’ll probably find it hard to walk for a while.”  
“What did he do to him?” Ray asked as he moved closer to the bars, shocked by the response.  
Bob frowned deeply. “He gave him to Mikey.”

Ray closed his eyes and allowed his shoulders to drop as if a great weight had suddenly been placed upon them. He knew what Mikey was capable of; he’d been forced to watch his handiwork on numerous occasions and it had always sickened him.

“Bob, wait!” 

Ray moved close to the bars as the other man turned away. Pausing for a few moments, Bob turned and displayed the same expression he had earlier.

“I can’t help you.”  
“Why?” Ray paused. “I can see it in your eyes, you hate what he’s doing too.”  
“I can’t help you!” Bob snapped in return.  
“You’re just as callous as he is! For all your pretending, for all your silence, you’re helping him and you don’t give a damn who he hurts or kills!”

Bob spun around, pushing his arm through the bars. Grabbing a handful of Ray’s hair, he pulled him forward angrily until his left cheek pressed up against one of the bars. Despite being afraid of what he might do, Ray looked up to see tears welling in Bob’s eyes, weighing heavy on his eyelashes.

“He’s got my girlfriend, okay? Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?”  
“No!” Ray replied. “Of course I’m not happy! Why would that make me happy?”  
“You got what you wanted, I cracked,” Bob released Ray and turned away to hide the now freely flowing tears.

Ray reached through the bars and placed a comforting hand on Bob’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I thought you were working for them. With you not being locked up… I… I thought.”  
“You thought wrong,” Bob replied rubbing the tears from his cheeks.  
“How did he get you?” Ray asked.  
“What does it matter?” Bob snapped, brushing Ray’s hand away. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”  
“Please?”

Bob sighed; it seemed to him a pointless exercise, but part of him wanted Ray to understand.

“We pulled into a gas station; we were lost. Ellen had entered a competition where she worked and she won a weekend for two at some spa hotel called The Adelphi. We never got there, we never even left the gas station. She went to the ladies room and she was gone a long time. When I went to look for her, Mikey was there, I thought he was the attendant; he said he hadn’t seen her. I turned my back and that was it, I don’t remember anything else. I woke up here.”   
Ray nodded; it was turning out to be a common tale. “There is no Adelphi, it was always a trap.”  
“What do you mean? He planned it? The whole thing? It wasn’t just bad luck?”  
Ray shook his head. “I’m sorry.”  
“Then he really is deadly serious,” Bob replied absently.  
“What about?” Ray asked with a puzzled expression.  
“He lets me see her every now and then, just to prove she’s still alive. If I don’t do what he says, Mikey gets her. If I still refuse, he puts one of your damn chips in my brain, that I have to make, and he forces me to kill her. And you want the kicker? He says going to tape everything and force me to watch it over and over until I go crazy! And he’ll really do it, won’t he?” 

Bob stared down at the floor and placed a hand over his mouth as his face registered the shock of hearing how calculating the two brothers were.

“Don’t you think that… maybe the three of us…? If we work together?” Ray ventured.

Bob looked up again to face him, curious by Ray’s last question. Any hopes he had of rescuing Ellen and escaping had been lost a long time ago. But here was Ray Toro; he had been a prisoner for almost six months longer and his hope hadn’t faded. If anything with the recent arrival of Frank Iero, his determination had increased further. But then, both of them only had themselves to lose. If Ellen weren’t locked up somewhere, he wasn’t even certain where, he’d have jumped at the chance, but he didn’t have that luxury. He simply couldn’t risk her life, no matter what.

“I can’t risk it,” he replied shaking his head. “I don’t even know where he’s keeping her.”

Ray nodded. As painful as it was that they would have to battle for their freedom alone, he understood Bob’s reluctance and knew that in the same position, he might just do the same.

“You understand that…” Bob paused as he took a deep sigh. “It’s my job to stop you escaping.”

Ray frowned. What was Bob telling him? That if he and Frank managed to escape that they would kill his girlfriend out of spite? And if he were saying that, Ray was uncertain how he would react. He refused to be responsible for everyone and if Bob couldn’t help, was it really fair of him to ask Ray not to try? It was a situation beyond any normal responses and it would be for each man to decide how desperate he was. It would be, should the opportunity arise, an agonising decision. But one that would not need to be made just yet as Ray heard a faint groan behind him.

“He’s waking up,” Bob observed, his tone dry and emotionless. “Look, if you can get away, do it. With you gone, he’ll need me even more; I’m the only one who knows how to make your controlling chips. He won’t hurt Ellen while he needs me.”  
“Thank you,” Ray smiled thinly. “If we get away, we’ll send the police for you.”  
“I think if you do, he’ll kill us all,” Bob replied.   
“All?” Ray asked surprised; he had seen so few people.   
“I think you better look after him, he’ll need it.”  
“But you still haven’t told me what they want,” Ray called as Bob turned to walk away.  
“That’s because I don’t know.”   
“You must know something!”

Bob lowered his head and sighed.

“The last chip didn’t work as they expected. I took it apart and there’s nothing wrong with it, but the guy fought back, they couldn’t control him. They think they can get around it, or, more accurately,” he nodded towards Frank, “he can get around it.”  
“He’s a psychologist,” Ray replied still uncertain what they could possibly need from him.  
“I heard them say he was a specialist in personality disorders,” Bob shrugged. “That’s all I know.”  
“Personality?” Ray’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”  
“Look,” Bob suddenly grew agitated. “I haven’t told you anything, okay?”   
“What? No, no, I understand,” Ray replied distractedly.  
“Look after him,” Bob pointed to Frank before walking away.

*

Gerard flopped back on the bed, sweating and exhausted, a satisfied smirk plastered across his face.

“I’ll bet Bryar never did that!” he announced loudly to the room.  
“No,” came the female voice at his side. “But don’t think you have him beat; he has some moves of his own, you know.”

Gerard’s smile faded into an angry frown.

“But you’re not still getting those moves are you?”  
“No, Gerard, you know I’m not.”

The woman chuckled as she moved closer, nuzzling his neck and pressing her pert breasts against his glistening skin.

“Are you jealous of Bob, Gerard?” she asked teasingly.  
“What do I have to be jealous of?” he replied, still angry from her taunting.  
“Because he’s seen me naked, he’s run his hands all over me, he’s…”

Gerard pushed her back onto her back and held her down; his grip uncomfortably tight.

“Shut up!” he snapped.  
“If you don’t like it, you only have yourself to blame. You’re the one who had me seduce him. You’re the one who had me play his girlfriend so I could bring him here. You know what I had to do.”  
“Yeah, well you don’t have to sound as though you liked it,” Gerard snapped, his eyes still blazing with rage.  
“What if I did?” she replied defiantly.

His eyes now wide with fury, Gerard raised his right hand and brought it down heavily into a stinging slap across her face.

“You’re mine and only mine! Do you understand?” he growled, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

The woman paled as she stared up. She had never seen Gerard this angry before. Yes she had teased him and even mocked him before now, but this was different. This time she truly felt afraid of him. It was the comparison with Bob that had been the catalyst. Perhaps mocking his manhood was not a safe topic? At this moment, he looked like he could and would kill her without a backward glance. But apologies weren’t her style either. This problem was Gerard’s making and she would tell him; he couldn’t deny simple facts.

“The only time I see Bob is when you parade me in front of him and I play the terrified girlfriend, alive only because he does what you want.”  
“That’s right and that’s as close as you’re going to get, right?”  
“I deceived him at your insistence, apparently I’m very good at it. Perhaps you shouldn’t get complacent?”

Gerard dropped his head and laughed, slowly shaking his head from side to side. Looking up sharply, he delivered another vicious blow. Her head snapped to the side and the coppery taste she knew to be blood filled her mouth. Before she had gathered her senses, Gerard’s hand was around her throat, squeezing tightly.

“Sugar, you don’t deceive me. Try it and you won’t live long enough to regret it. Follow me?”

His voice was slow and purposeful, leaving her in no doubt that he meant every word of his threat.

“Do you follow me?” he repeated in the same tone.  
“Yeah,” she whispered, trying to stem the tears that welled in her eyes.  
“Good, now get dressed!”


	7. Frank's Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Way brothers divulge their plans to Frank and Ray

Frank opened his eyes and looked up slowly. Everything seemed out of focus still, but the shape looming over him sported big enough hair, that it could only be Ray. Beneath him he felt the thin mattress and realised that he was once again lying down in the cell.

“Thank you,” he whispered.  
“What for?” Ray asked.  
“Getting me lying down, I doubt they did that.”  
“Actually, it was Bob… but I would have.”  
“Bob,” Frank spat accusingly. “He’s doing this for fun you know.”  
Ray shook his head. “No, he told me why. They’ve got his girlfriend. He hates them too.”  
“Then he must really love her,” Frank groaned as he tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up.  
“Yeah,” Ray’s mouth turned up almost into a smile. “I hope she’s worth it.”

Ray frowned deeply at the expression of utter agony on Frank’s face as he tried to again to sit up again. Placing his hands gently on Frank’s shoulders, it took hardly any effort at all to push him back down.

“Frank, you have to rest, I can see by your face, you’re in agony.”  
Frank nodded then shook his head. “I’m sure it’s nothing worse than you’ve had to cope with.”

Ray smiled at the man’s determination.

“Maybe, but I rested. You can’t fight them when you’re too weak to fight me! Now lie down!”  
Frank smiled. Ray’s words made a lot of sense, but he didn’t have to like it, did he?  
“Can I have some water, please?”  
“Sure,” Ray patted Frank’s shoulder gently as he rose to get a beaker of water. On his return, he wasn’t surprised to find Frank sitting up, propped up against his pillow. “I thought I told you to lie down?”  
“I can’t lie down if I’m drinking, can I?” Frank smiled weakly, reaching for the cup.  
“Hey, hey, hey! Just sip it!” Ray admonished kindly as Frank gulped down the proffered water and began to cough.

Frank nodded briefly as he drank eagerly. The metallic taste of blood had encrusted itself all around his mouth and throat, it was all he could taste and smell and he was keen to lose that horrible sensation as soon as possible.

“I know what he wants from you.”

The quiet statement was enough to pull Frank’s attention from the water. His mouth still on the lip of the beaker, he turned his eyes up. Slowly, his head followed, his lips peeling away slowly from the plastic.

“He told you?”  
“It was something Bob said,” Ray shrugged, “and something Gerard said to me a while back.”  
“What?” 

Frank moved the cup from his mouth and realised only then the extreme discomfort and pain he felt. He visibly sagged as Ray took the beaker from his hands.

“Lie down, Frank.”  
“I’m okay,” he insisted.  
“You’re not!” Ray snapped back, his voice forceful and yet, at the same time, caring. “He’s tortured you,” he added simply. “You’re not okay.”

Frank nodded. He knew that he was right. Deep down, it wasn’t something he needed to think about, but he felt guilty. Ray had suffered so much and he had wanted, no, he had promised to help. Yet, here he was, suffering badly from Mikey’s cruel treatment. He felt far from helpful. But, he promised himself, there would be a time for what he wanted to do, and when that time came, he had to be ready, he had to be fit enough. Now was not that time.

Easing his head gratefully back down onto the pillow, Frank allowed his aching muscles to relax. At first that was just as painful as they had felt when tense, but slowly, gradually the pain eased everywhere except in his hand. 

“You really know what he wants?” Frank finally asked, allowing his head to roll to face Ray.  
“I think so,” Ray nodded, settling himself more comfortably on the floor beside Frank’s bed. “He said you’re an expert in personality disorders.”  
Frank frowned, puzzled by Ray’s reply. “I don’t see the connection.”  
“I wondered why they never inserted a controlling chip into me,” Ray began. “They’ve had the technology for a long time and I know they’ve got a surgeon here. I saw her once when they dragged me into Gerard’s office to gloat about the first successful implant they had made.” Ray’s nose crumpled with distaste at the memory of the meeting. “The pair of them sat there gloating that they were on their way to power and fortune and it was all thanks to me. I thought he was bad enough, but there she was draped all over him looking so damn pleased with herself! It wasn’t as if she’d done any of the work! I’d designed it, Bob built it and I had to specify how it was implanted. All she had to do was open their victim up and follow the instructions. But there she was acting as though she was expecting to win the Nobel Prize!”  
“I still don’t see,” Frank cut in.  
“No, and neither did they. I wasn’t going to tell them, either. I wanted the whole thing to backfire, to blow up in their faces. It was the only possible way I could see of getting out of here. They had to get caught.”  
“You put something in the chip?” Frank asked, still trying to make sense of Ray’s convoluted and confusing tale.  
“They said they wanted to make people steal for them, but those same people, if caught wouldn’t remember who they were working for or where they were based. It was quite a simple thing to program into the chip and no one would be any the wiser. I believe that the people they did it to were drugged and brought here, totally unaware of who had them or where they were. The operation would go ahead and from that moment on anything they saw or heard could be erased easily. At first, they had criminals working for them, but then Gerard got ambitious. Instead of stealing jewels and paintings that could conceivably be traced back, he decided it would be safer to control someone with access to financial markets. He would buy and sell shares and make a killing on the stock market. By luring blue chip company executives to his phoney hotel, he would control them and get insider information on their market dealings. He planned to make a killing. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened, but not financially.”  
“He killed someone?” Frank asked quietly, wishing he couldn’t see what Ray was building up to.  
“Oh, Frank, he’s killed lots of people! But in this particular case, the chip didn’t work. Or, to be more precise, it did exactly what I expected it to.”  
“He was too strong-minded to be controlled?”

Ray nodded, sadly. 

“Something like that. The chip I invented wasn’t exactly what he wanted, neither was it what I had originally been working on. When I said that I saw what the problem was and how to fix it, what I meant was I simplified it. I knew that I was working in areas that I really didn’t know enough about, so I stuck to what I did know. It wasn’t what he wanted, but by that point, I didn’t care. He was forcing me to work by killing people in front of me. Every time I refused or it didn’t work, I was dragged out to Mikey’s office, for want of a better word, and I was made to watch him torture and kill some random guy or woman they’d snatched from the street. I thought that if I could give him something. Something that worked, or seemed to, that he’d stop the killing and maybe, if I was lucky, when it went wrong, he’d be arrested.”  
“But it didn’t work out like that?” Frank asked, knowing without even needing to hear any more what the answer would be.  
“No,” Ray shook his head. “The guy couldn’t be controlled and he fought back. I mean, what was he thinking? Surely, he could have gone along with it and then run straight to the cops! But, no, he confronted them. Alone, unarmed, he defied them. Gerard was livid. Bob overpowered him and… and, well, he ended up with Mikey.”  
“When did all this happen?” Frank asked, knowing now that it was only a matter of minutes before the reason for his kidnapping would be explained. But the sad truth was that he believed, from what Ray had said so far, he already knew.  
“A few months ago,” Ray sighed. “Gerard questioned me about it, and at first it was just questions. At first, he blamed Bob for making one that didn’t work, but it wasn’t that. Somehow he knew I was holding something back from him.”  
“That what you made couldn’t force someone to act against his own basic personality traits?” Frank asked in the full knowledge that he was right.  
Ray nodded and smiled with admiration of Frank’s grasp of the situation.  
“Then he went looking for someone who could address the problem. An expert on personality.”  
Frank shook his head slowly. “And I fell for it.”  
“What happened?” Ray asked sympathetically.  
“I was asked to address a conference on the treatment of personality disorders using electrical stimuli. I was doing research into ways of overriding antisocial or criminal traits or behaviour. And we were making serious breakthroughs. Most of all, I wanted to get it to a point where we could find cures for illnesses, certain psychosis, schizophrenia and problems of that nature. In a way, it sounds similar to the work you were doing, but coming at it from a psychological angle. As it turns out, they watched me, they knew that combining my research with yours could help and they found a way to get me. Fuck! If we do what they want, we’ll never see the light of day again!”  
“And if you don’t, the next thing you’ll see is the barrel of a gun.”

Both men looked over to the barred door to see the Way brothers standing casually, staring in, Mikey resting his hands on his brother’s shoulder. 

“Good, you worked it out, that saves me having to explain it all to you. Get plenty of rest, the pair of you will be in the lab tomorrow. I want a working model by the end of the week. And just to give you added incentive to make it work, we’ll be implanting it into one of you.”  
“So,” Mikey added with a cruel smile. “Try not to kill the person we implant, or the other one comes to me!”  
“Then you won’t have either of us, you won’t do that!” Ray argued angrily.  
“I will, Toro, you know why? Because I still have something that I can use with low-life burglars. If that’s all I have, that’s what I’ll use. I’ll still get rich, but you’ll be dead. Trust me, Toro, I really don’t need you if you can’t do this. I only need you as long as you’re useful.”


	8. All Mikey Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey doesn't want to make it - he just wants to...

“Can we actually do what he wants?” Ray asked as the brothers left. “I never got to the bottom of whether or not it was even possible.”  
Frank took a deep breath. “I think it’s going to depend on how your chip works. I know how I’d do it in theory. But that’s as far as I ever got, theory. Question is, will it even be compatible?”  
“We’ve only got three days to design and build this and… we have to get it right or…”  
“Or one of us is dead,” Frank finished the sentence.  
“Probably both,” Ray corrected.

____

With a sigh, Frank pushed himself up until he was sitting up on the bunk.

“Hey!” Ray cried trying to push his companion back down. Now somewhat recovered and stronger, Frank was able to fend off his efforts. “I said rest. Even they did!”  
“We don’t have time,” Frank shook his head. “Tell me about your chip.”  
“Are you sure?” Ray asked protectively.  
Frank nodded. “We’re the only ones who understand how difficult this is. Them? They make demands, unrealistic demands and we have to deliver. It’ll be hard enough, even if we start now. Even if we’d started weeks ago! We don’t have a choice.”

*

“Do you think they can do it?” Mikey asked, leaning back in his chair wiping a cloth lovingly up the long blade of a pristine hunting knife.  
“You know,” Gerard rolled his head to the side to look towards his brother, “I don’t know. Frank’s a bit of an unknown quantity right now, but Ray?” he laughed mockingly. “The poor soul is utterly broken. He’ll do anything we say now.”

Mikey placed the knife back in its sheath and leaned forward, turning the weapon in his hands a few times before placing it carefully back onto the small table next to him.

“I didn’t ask will they, I said could they?”

Gerard frowned at Mikey’s tone. He knew that they frequently saw things differently, but on occasion it was more obvious than he liked. Mikey was a handful; unpredictable and violent. They rarely argued, but when they did, Gerard saw it coming with the same sense of inevitability as watching two trains on a collision course. 

“They’re the best in their field, so I’d like to think so,” Gerard sighed in return.  
“Yeah, well you would,” Mikey growled lifting another knife and admiring the gleam of the steel in the dim light.  
“Mikey,” Gerard frowned. It was time to deal with this once and for all. “Do you not want this to work?”  
“It’s been going well enough so far, hasn’t it?” he replied with a pout.  
“That’s not what I asked. I want to make this safer for us, more efficient,” Gerard frowned deeper as Mikey’s pout grew more pronounced. “What?”  
“Well,” Mikey shrugged, “if this works, it’ll be over, won’t it?”  
“No, it won’t be over,” Gerard shook his head. “It’ll only just be started! We’ll kidnap businessmen and control them utterly. We’ll have more money than we know what to do with. We’ll live like kings!”

Mikey looked away, toying with the knife in his hands, he seemed to be thinking about Gerard’s words.

“Well?” Gerard prompted. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Mikey remained silent, contemplative. Chewing his bottom lip, he tried to find the words that would explain how he truly felt to his brother.

“You want it, not me,” he muttered.  
“You’re telling me you don’t like this house and all the things you’re able to buy with the money we make?”  
“No, I… I’m not saying that… well, not completely,” Mikey frowned. 

Emotions and expressing them were not Mikey’s strongest point. It wasn’t that he felt nothing, neither was it that his vocabulary let him down, but somehow the two didn’t mix. Gerard was the ‘word man’. Mikey felt that he was more about expressing himself through actions. But to him, actions meant torture, mutilation, murder. It was all he knew, all he enjoyed. He accepted that Gerard never truly understood him, or rather, he wanted to accept it, but, deep down, he knew that if Gerard were to make the effort, he would understand and he would want it too.

“Well what are you saying?” Gerard snapped, tired of the number of times they had almost had this conversation. 

Mikey looked down to his right, away from Gerard as much as he could without physically moving. It was happening again, Gerard could see it. Mikey was withdrawing into himself. Soon he would refuse to talk and would sit silently on the couch with his knees drawn up to his chest. Gerard would be _persona non grata _again and they wouldn’t speak for hours or even days. Gerard watched in frustration as Mikey turned the chair away from him, his head bowed, his eyes diverted.__

____

“No!” Gerard snapped leaping to his feet. “Not again! You’re not giving me the silent treatment just because I don’t get what goes on in your twisted mind!”

Leaning over Mikey’s chair, Gerard placed his hands on the arms and glared at his brother. Mikey’s eyes widened at the intrusion into his personal space. His heart raced faster as Gerard shook the arms of the chair in an attempt to make him talk.

“Say something!” he yelled, as he lowered over the nervous slender figure.  
“I don’t care about the money!” he yelled back trying to press himself deeper into the chair.  
“What else is there to care about?” Gerard snapped angry with him for doing this yet again.  
“That’s all you care about!” Mikey countered. “You’re not even interested in what I want!”  
“You won’t even tell me what you want!” Gerard leaned in further, yelling in his brother’s face.  
“I… you know... all I ever do is… torture and kill,” Mikey finally stammered out.  
“You won’t need to after this!” Gerard yelled back angrily. “Don’t you understand? This is going to be so much easier!”  
“And that’s the problem, Gerard. Don’t you get it?" Finding his anger, Mikey shifted forward in his seat, trying to gain some of the space that Gerard had taken from him. The brothers' faces were close as he continued to rage. "It’s you that doesn’t understand! Killing is all I want to do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do and now you’re taking that away from me!”

The pain wasn’t immediate. At first there was a numbness that lasted only until Mikey withdrew the knife. Gerard’s hold on the chair weakened and Mikey found it easy now to push him away. Watching as he dropped to the floor gasping for breath, Mikey took a couple of minutes to clean the knife carefully and place it back in its sheath.

“Mi… Mikey… what…?” Gerard gasped as his brother stood over him.  
“You never understood me, Gerard, and you never tried. But now you don’t have to.”

Blood oozed between Gerard’s fingers as he tried, unsuccessfully, to cover the wound. Only now, as he lay on the floor in a widening pool of his own blood did he understand Mikey’s real concern. If this new chip was successful, there would be no need for more torture, no more murder and suddenly, he realised just how twisted Mikey’s mind was. He wasn’t just capable of torture, he loved it.

“Don’t worry, Gerard,” Mikey pressed the intercom to call for Bob. “You’ll survive, I’ve been doing this long enough to know that I haven’t hit anything major.”  
“I… I’m sorry, I’ll… make sure…” Gerard began, his voice raspy and faltering.  
“No,” Mikey interrupted his ever-weakening older brother. “I’m in charge now and I have plans of my own. I’ll get Bob to take you to Ellen to patch you up.”  
“N… no…” Gerard replied weakly before, unable to prevent it, he slipped into unconsciousness, aware as he did that everything he had worked for was slipping through his fingers as quickly and easily as his blood.

 

❮


	9. Good News or Bad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank, Ray and Bob all get surprises, but what will it mean for them?

Bob pushed the door open; his eyes immediately drawn down towards Gerard lying, his shirt soaked in blood, his face deathly pale. Snapping his head up, shocked at the sight, Bob stared expectantly at Mikey.

Knowing Mikey’s nature, Bob wasn’t sure why he was so shocked that his expression was so dispassionate. Neither was he certain, from the brief glance he had taken, whether Gerard was even still alive; but Mikey was addressing him as if he was asking something entirely innocuous, like asking him to bring him a coffee. Bob found the situation unnerving to say the least. 

“We had an argument,” Mikey explained simply. “I want him patched up, take him to surgery.”  
“I’ve never been there, I don’t know where it is,” Bob replied, gathering his wits, though still stunned by Mikey’s apparent disinterest in his brother bleeding to death on the floor.  
“Never?” Mikey looked puzzled. There had, after all, been numerous opportunities to patch up or operate on their various prisoners over the years. Mikey had even used the room as a alternate venue for torturing his victims. “I’ll show you,” he shrugged, “pick him up.”

Bob sighed as he picked up one of his tormentors. Part of him would almost have been happy to let him die on the floor, the sheer number of people he had seen killed since his abduction warranted extreme justice in his opinion. But the better part of him needed him alive; it was very possible that only Gerard knew where Ellen, his girlfriend, was being held and he couldn’t risk her safety, not even for the satisfaction of revenge.

Following Mikey down the maze of passageways, Bob finally saw a door with a simple sign fixed to the wall that merely read O.R. Even before Mikey opened the door, Bob had a sudden flash of realisation and the sinking feeling that accompanied it.

“Doctor!” Mikey yelled as he opened the door to what appeared to be a preparation room with an operating theatre beyond.

Bob fears were realised and he almost dropped Gerard as Ellen, the woman he believed to be his girlfriend, entered the room. In turn, her mouth fell open as she saw the man she was sleeping with, covered in blood and being carried by the man she had seduced in order entrap him and bring him to the house.

“Ellen!” Bob gasped. Of course, he knew that she was a surgeon, but it had never until this moment occurred to him that Gerard could force her to work for him too. He wondered now if Gerard had told her that he would kill him if she refused? It seemed reasonable that they had both been told similar stories to be coerced into using their expertise to help the Way brothers accomplish their devious plans.  
“Oh, that’s right!” Mikey laughed. “You know each other…” he cast a glance at Ellen, remembering her part in abducting Bob. “Well, a little anyway.”  
“What happened? Bring him over here!” Ellen instructed, trying not to let her concern for Gerard seem too obvious. 

Bob nodded, seeing a chance to escape. Now he knew exactly where she was, he could overpower Mikey and they could all escape. It seemed too good to be true. Dropping Gerard’s limp form on the table, Bob stood back, before turning quickly. Dragging Mikey backwards, he pulled him off-balance. Pulling the slender man’s arms behind him, Bob looped his left hand under both of them and gripped Mikey’s right arm above the elbow, pinning them both. His right arm, Bob forced around Mikey’s neck.

“Ellen!” he shouted, almost out of breath with the anticipation of freedom. “Come on, we’re getting out of here! But first,” he addressed Mikey, “you’re going to release Frank and Ray!”

Bob’s muscles were tight from holding the figure writhing in his grip, so much so that he almost didn’t feel the needle go in. Turning his head he saw Ellen withdraw the syringe and ignoring him utterly, set to work on saving Gerard.  
Within moments, Mikey had pushed Bob’s arms away and watched with a smile as he staggered backwards.

“Yeah, my fault,” Mikey laughed as Bob collapsed to the floor. “I should have remembered when you said you’d never been to the Surgery before. You were never supposed to see that Ellen is our surgeon. Though how you never worked it out is beyond me! And just so you know, she was never your girlfriend; she’s always been Gerard’s. And that’s why you two could never meet. It’s why Gerard was never kind to you.” Mikey laughed again at what he saw as his own joke. “No! Gerard hates everyone, he doesn’t even like me all that much, but after today, he’s gonna hate my guts! It’s good to know that you care about the other two prisoners though; I can use that. Oh, and, by the way, I’m in charge now,” Mikey grinned cheerfully. “And you know what that means!”

Bob stared up, unblinking in the shock of what had come to light. All this time, he had remained an unwilling employee to the violent and malevolent brothers in the hope of saving his girlfriend’s life and all along her affections for him had been a sham. Finally as tears welled in his eyes, the darkness closed in and he slipped willingly and gratefully into unconsciousness.

*

Ray stirred as the noise increased. He and Frank had, despite their best efforts fallen asleep during their discussions. Although fruitful, their efforts had left them exhausted and they had slept where they sat, fully clothed and uncomfortable. Ray blinked in the dim light, wishing, praying it wasn’t time to wake. His discussions with Frank, he was certain, had ended less than an hour earlier and he desperately needed some rest.  
Angling himself so that he got a better view of what was happening, Ray kept his eyes half closed in the pretence that he was still asleep. His heart sank when he saw Bob being carried by two previously unseen, or at least, unremembered lackeys. Dropped only a short distance, Bob still managed a low groan as he hit the floor, Ray almost reacting with him as he heard Bob’s head fall back against the stone floor. What could Bob possibly have done after all this time to warrant his imprisonment? Guiltily, Ray thought back to Bob’s confession to him about why he was working for the Way brothers. Surely that wasn’t sufficient to anger them to this extent? Ray couldn’t rule it out. After the way he had been treated over the years, it almost seemed likely that they would jump on the smallest of offences and hand out a particularly cruel punishment. These men, especially Mikey, killed with smiles on their faces; almost gleeful. Nothing would surprise Ray any more. In truth, Bob need only to have become unnecessary to find himself a more permanent prisoner; it was impossible to guess their motives.

The next sight, not only drew his interest, but also his undivided attention. Ray no longer pretended to be asleep. Rising quickly to his feet, he tugged urgently on Frank’s shirt, encouraging the psychologist to wake and witness this amazing event with him.

Frank groaned and tried to shrug off the desperate attempt to rouse him.

“Frank!” Ray hissed trying to gain his attention. 

Eventually with no patience remaining, Ray hauled Frank into a sitting position, dragging him with the sheer force of the motion into full wakefulness.

“What!” Frank snapped, angry at the unwelcome disturbance.  
“I think you’re going to want to see this,” Ray replied with a genuinely pleased expression etched so deep on his face that he might never lose it.

Frank sighed deeply as he glanced over in the direction that Ray was pointing. His cell-mate had good reason to wake him.

Frank stared, open-mouthed at the sight of Gerard being manhandled into the cell adjacent to Bob’s.

“What’s going on?” Ray asked quickly, Frank joining him at the bars, as they looked down at the unconscious figure opposite them, still covered in blood, but now stitched and bandaged.

“You just lost the closest thing you’ve got to a voice of reason,” the man now locking the cell door replied with a sly chuckle.

Ray’s smile vanished in an instant. As much as Gerard had caused him to suffer over the years, Ray knew that Gerard had limits that Mikey would never know. The brief moment of joy at seeing Gerard get his just desserts melted in the light of the knowledge that there was now no one to control Mikey’s extremes and violent temper.

 

❮


	10. A Glimmer of Hope?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Ray find out what Mikey wants from them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! This is the last chapter I have pre-written, but I'll try not to make you wait too long for the next one. I'm enjoying writing again after a 5 year break, so I'm keen to crack on. Hope you enjoy, m'dears! Sas xo

“What do you think this means?” Frank asked, still bewildered by the arrival of Gerard and Bob to the cells.  
“Well, it means Mikey’s in charge and…” Ray paused as the pair stared bleakly at each other, “that can’t be good,” he continued with a frown.

Frank nodded over to the bunks and, with a sigh, Ray agreed with a brief nod. Somehow despite the excitement of the new arrival, they were both suddenly very tired and needed to sit down at the very least. Once settled, Ray leaned forward, his hands clasped and resting his elbows onto his knees.

“I’m not sure it changes anything for us,” he looked at Frank’s expectant face and offered an apologetic shrug. “Gerard wanted us to change the chip to force people to comply. God only knows what Mikey wants!”  
“But he could want the same thing?” Frank asked.  
“Yeah, there’s no way of knowing without finding out what went on between them,” he replied, jerking his head towards the bars to indicate Gerard’s cell. “But one thing is certain, the guy who said that we lost our voice of reason was right. As much as I hate Gerard for what he’s done to me… to us,” Ray corrected himself, “Mikey, he… he’s a psychopath.”  
“Oh, surely not,” came a condescending and familiar voice from the door.

Ray and Frank turned their head’s sharply toward the bars, to see Mikey his arms raised and crossed above his head, leaning them on the bars, his head tilted, his expression an unpleasant combination of demented and amused. The sight of Mikey at the cell entrance drew significantly dissimilar reactions from the two men, born out of the difference in the length of time each had been prisoners. Ray’s heart raced with fear and he shrank back slightly without even realising he had. Frank stiffened, poised to jump up and race to the bars in anger and desperation, but hesitant and still suffering from the torture he had endured earlier. Possibly guessing his intention, Mikey laughed callously and pushed himself back away from the bars, lowering his arms.

“I do still want the chip changed,” he announced, “but not for the reasons Gerard wanted it done. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I do want it for the same reasons, just not the same purpose.”  
“What then?” Frank scowled, earning a sharp worried glance from Ray for risking Mikey’s wrath.  
Mikey chuckled; it was an unnerving sound. “Gerard is my brother, I can’t leave him down here, that just wouldn’t be right. But if I let him back upstairs, he’ll take over again, and I can’t have that.”  
“You want to control him?” Frank gasped.  
“It seems the best overall solution, don’t you think?” Mikey tilted his head thoughtfully. “But of course, I can’t risk that you won’t do something that’ll kill him, so this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to give you three days to make the chip and make sure it’s right. Then, it’ll be inserted into you, Frank, and I’ll check to make sure you’re fully under control. If it works, I’ll have it put into him.”

A glimmer of hope flashed across Frank’s eyes, whilst Ray remained apparently unmoved.

“Oh, Frankie,” Mikey smirked maliciously. “Don’t get excited just yet. I haven’t told you how I’m going to test it yet, have I?”

Frank drew in a deep breath. Glancing briefly at Ray, Frank noticed his cell mate had lowered his head as if he were aware of what was coming. Looking back towards the bars at Mikey’s triumphant expression, Frank’s heart sank.

“How?” he whispered.  
“You’re going to kill Ray.”  
“No!” Frank cried in alarm. “No, I won’t!”  
“Well, if the chip works, you will, you won’t have a choice. Oh, but if you could make it so that you’re aware of what you’re doing but you just can’t help yourself, that would be delicious!” he cried gleefully with a clap of his hands.  
Frank’s eyes widened with shock and disgust. “You’re insane!”  
Mikey shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not,” narrowing his eyes he stared unblinking at Frank, “but you’ll find out just how much if it doesn’t work.”

Another brief glance at Ray told Frank that there was nothing in Mikey’s words that had surprised him in the slightest and in that moment, Frank realised how much the brothers had broken his spirit.

“Anyway,” Mikey began again with artificial joviality. “I suggest you get some sleep. You have a lot of work to do and very little time to do it. Goodnight!”

Frank watched in silence as Mikey walked away, whistling a stilted, unrecognisable tune as he left.

“I don’t believe it,” Frank shook his head. “It’s actually worse.”  
Ray looked up, pale and drawn. “I’ve already told you what he did to me when I refused or couldn’t get it to work.”

Frank shuddered at the memory of what Ray had told him of the hours of personal torture and Ray being forced to watch the torture of other prisoners as a cruel incentive to find a way to succeed.

“We can’t do it, Ray,” Frank replied. “We just can’t.”  
Ray laughed mirthlessly. “He’ll make us. Sooner or later, we’ll do it. Don’t forget I’ve already been down this path.”  
“We have to escape,” Frank stammered. “We… we have to.”  
“How?” Ray replied wearily.  
“We have to make Gerard help us,” Frank replied with determination. “It’s his only way out of this now too!”

Ray nodded; a smile half forming on his face. There was a glimmer, just a glimmer of hope. But could they convince him? They could only wait and see.

 

*

 

Having mopped up Gerard’s spilt blood, Ellen had already started sterilising the operating room. Left to her own thoughts, she let her mind drift to the earlier chaos and to Bob in particular. She had pretended to be his girlfriend for several months, almost eight in fact. He had been tender, gentle even. Gerard had never been gentle, quite the opposite, in fact he had frequently been violent. Like the last time she had slept with him. He was always satisfied with his performance and in truth so was she but he wasn’t a generous lover and seemed more intent on his own pleasure than hers. When he was ready, when he’d finished, that was it. The concept of continuing or drawing it out for her benefit was out of the question; he had even laughed at the idea, telling her she should just catch up. Gerard had always been so exciting, a bad boy, handsome and electrifying. There was something about him that had drawn her like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his looks or charisma, although that played a large part. It wasn’t even the money; she was a skilled surgeon and any position would have brought her more than sufficient financial reward. Was the problem something in her? Did she hate herself so much that she thought she deserved his poor treatment of her emotionally? It was a shocking thought and an unpleasant realisation.

It had been the expression on Bob’s face as he fell to the floor that had finally made her realise her mistake. He was devastated by the betrayal, the lies, the deceit. He had stayed all those many months as Gerard’s prisoner, obeying his commands to keep her safe and all the while they had both been laughing at him. She felt sick to her stomach with disgust at herself and her actions. 

“He’ll be fine!” Mikey scoffed as he misread her expression. “You did a good job and I was careful not to hit anything important.”

Ellen looked up, shocked to hear the voice; she hadn’t even heard the door open.

“You nearly hit one of his kidneys,” she replied almost automatically.  
“But I didn’t, did I?” Mikey frowned and narrowed his eyes. “I told you, I was careful.”  
“Why did you do it?” Ellen asked, trying not to be intimidated by the cold reaction.  
“He wasn’t listening to me, I got frustrated,” Mikey shrugged. “I… he knows I can’t talk about things like he can. He was pushing me and taking away what I wanted!” his voice suddenly rose in pitch. “It was in my hand, I lost my temper that’s all.”  
“You stabbed your own brother!” Ellen responded in kind.

Mikey took two paces into the operating room; his eyes fixed on Ellen, boring through her cold and angry.

“I know what I did and like I said, he’ll be fine.”  
“Where is he?” she asked quietly, suddenly meek. “In his room?”  
“No!” Mikey’s eyes widened. “He’s locked up downstairs! I don’t want him interfering with my fun. I like what I do and he’s not going to take it away from me.”  
“What you do?” she whispered, now coming to the same realisation as Gerard had just before he was stabbed. “Okay,” she added compliantly. “Are you leaving him there till he calms down and understands what you want?”  
“No,” Mikey smirked. “I’m not going to take that chance. I’ve given Ray and Frank three days to fully develop the chip so that it can control anyone. Once they have, I want you to put it into Gerard. I want control of him. Absolute control.”  
“Three days?” she asked hesitantly.  
“Three days,” Mikey nodded turning to leave. Almost as an afterthought, he glanced back. “We’ll be testing it on Frank first. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let them kill him, am I?”

Ellen tried her best to force a smile, desperate to make Mikey believe that Gerard’s safety was her only concern. Mikey was dangerous, more than she had ever realised. If ever she had been scared by him before, she was terrified now.


	11. The Tables have Turned... No, The Tables are Utterly Destroyed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard struggles to hear Mikey's plans

“Fuck!” the voice was hoarse and shaky.

Gerard had crawled to the door of the cell, the fingers of his left hand closed tightly around one of the bars while the other clutched his recently stitched wound. His head swam with what remained of the anaesthetic that Ellen had used to keep him under while she patched him up after being stabbed by his own brother.

“What the hell have you done, Mikey!” he growled; his tone somewhere between bewildered and livid.  
“How about, ‘the world a service’?” came another voice from the opposite cell.

Gerard grimaced, at his misfortune to be placed, but worse, seen in this position. Desperate to retain some control over Frank and Ray, but if he hoped for any dignity in this situation he was to be sorely mistaken. All fear they had held for him had been washed away with his blood.

Scowling with loathing and humiliation, Gerard looked up at the triumphant smirk of Frank. Both he and Ray stood at the bars to their own cell gazing down at their erstwhile captor, now kneeling, degraded, resentful and furious. Clenching his right fist and slamming it against one of the bars, Gerard’s anger wasn’t provoked by Frank’s smirk as much as it was by Ray’s complete lack of fear as he stared down at him.

“It’s good to see you on your knees for a change,” Frank crumpled his nose in distaste as the man opposite tried to pull himself to his feet.

Managing, but not fully upright, bent over with the untreated pain. Gerard leaned against the bars in a desperate attempt to appear complacent.

“Don’t get smug, Frank,” Gerard spat. “This isn’t the first time we’ve fallen out. When he lets me out, I’ll be the one wiping that stupid smirk off your face. Trust me!”  
“I think,” began Ray – it was a rehearsed speech that he tried to deliver as unpractised. 

Gerard had broken him, they both knew it, but if he could say these few words and make him believe he was no longer afraid, it could help their cause immeasurably.

“I think you’ve overestimated your worth to your brother.”

Ray took a deep breath at the end of the statement and stared down with his shoulders pushed back, trying to adopt a fearless posture. It seemed to work; Gerard pushed his right hand across his mouth as he considered the words. He seemed to be arguing with himself silently – alternately, and almost imperceptively, shaking and nodding his head. Pointing at the occupants of the cell opposite, he finally settled on shaking his head.

“No,” his breathing staggered, Gerard licked his dry lips. “Mikey knows what we have here, he’ll…”  
“Are you going to say, ‘he’ll let you out’ or ‘he’ll come around’? No, he won’t Gerard!” Frank laughed, enjoying Gerard’s discomfort. “Because he’s already told us what he’s going to do to you! And, trust me, Gerard you are not going to like it one bit!”  
“Tell you?” Gerard scoffed at the idea. “Why would he tell _you_ anything?”  
“Because,” Frank adopted his most superior and disparaging expression, “we’re the ones who are going to do it to you!”

The air of arrogance fell away from Gerard’s face in an instant and Frank smiled slyly in the knowledge that they had played their cards well. Gerard’s breathing slowed as he thought about Frank’s words; it was exactly the sort of idea that Mikey would, and seemingly, had concocted. Gerard pursed his lips. He very much wanted more information – to know exactly what his brother’s twisted and sick mind had planned for him, but he wasn’t transitioning from captor to prisoner easily and the easy laughter aimed at him from the other cell was only making it worse.

“Stop it!” he eventually snapped, as Frank and Ray exchanged high fives and their laughter, and with it, Ray’s confidence grew. “Stop it!” he yelled again as the first only seemed to encourage a bigger and more spiteful response from the pair.

Gerard slammed his open palm into the bars and exhaled heavily, resting his forehead on the bars, trying hard not to be physically sick.

“We have three days to develop and fit you with a new chip that your darling brother can use to control you utterly. I’m actually looking forward to it,” Frank chuckled, of course, choosing to not mention Mikey’s insistence on testing it by killing Ray. “I can’t wait to see him do to you what you’ve done to so many others. And you know what we’re going to do?” Frank pressed on. “We’re going to make it so that you’re actually randomly forced to disobey and I can’t wait to hear your screams as he punishes you!”  
“Shut up!” Gerard screamed, regretting it immediately as the force of his voice pulled at the muscles in his abdomen, causing a spasm around the stitching. “Just shut the fuck up, Iero!” Gerard’s voice returned to a more restrained level as he clutched at his dressing once more.

“Ah!” came a cheery voice from the top of the stairs.

Frank gave Gerard a wave that screamed of silent sarcasm as he and Ray headed back to their bunks. Lying down as Mikey almost skipped down the long flight of stone steps, both Frank and Ray desperately hoped that nothing Mikey would say would derail their hard work. In particular, of course, they desperately hoped that Mikey would stay true to his stubborn and cruel nature and not forgive Gerard whatever transgression had fallen between them.

“Hello, Gerard,” Mikey beamed a smile at his brother. “You’re awake, I see. I’m glad.”  
“Mikey,” Gerard forced a smile in return. “Come on,” he shrugged and coaxed playfully. “Open the door and let’s sort this out.”  
“I can’t do that, Gerard,” Mikey frowned at the request.  
“Ouch,” Frank chuckled from his bunk, speaking intentionally loud so that Gerard could hear him.

 Mikey turned a frown toward the opposite cell before turning back to talk to his brother once more.

“You see, I want to change things up a bit and well, I know you don’t want that. I hate it that you never seem to want to do what I want to.”  
“Bu…But, Mikey,” Gerard stammered. “I just didn’t realise we wanted different things before! I’m not a mind reader, Mikes!”  
“You didn’t have to be,” the younger Way pouted. “You should have been able to see I wasn’t happy, but you never even asked.”  
“Mikes, I’m sorry, I got caught up in it all and trying to make these two get things right…”  
“We didn’t need Frank,” Mikey looked down and twisted his foot from side to side as if extinguishing a cigarette with it. “I was quite happy before.”  
“Well…” Gerard began hopefully, only to be immediately interrupted.  
“But that was before,” Mikey shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. “He’s here now and you want your all-powerful chip,” Mikey rolled his eyes at the thought of it.  
“Yes, but…” 

Mikey slammed a palm against one of the bars, venting some of his volatile anger. The action surprised Gerard and he found himself flinching and pulling back from the bars.

“Shut up, Gerard and listen to me. Just for once in your arrogant, self-centred life, shut up and listen!”

Another round of light laughter emanated from the opposite cell as Gerard balled his hands into fists as tight as his fury. If he could only convince Mikey to release him, he would kill Frank without a moment’s hesitation and he’d do it with a big damn grin on his face too!

“I’m listening,” he replied as meekly as he was able, while his fingernails dug deep, so far that he genuinely believed he must be bleeding by now.  
“Somehow,” Mikey sighed, “I genuinely doubt that, Gerard. You’re so busy thinking about what you’re going to say next. You’re so desperate to get your own way that I just don’t see you listening to me at all!”  
“Try me, Mikes,” he pleaded. “I’m listening, I promise.” 

As touching as the family make-up session would have been, but for the details of who were the ones talking, Frank was frowning. So far, Mikey hadn’t said anything that contradicted him and Ray, but neither did it sound as though Mikey would keep Gerard a prisoner. He was desperate that their escape plan proceeded as they had discussed. Gerard had to believe that his only hope for escape was through Frank and Ray. But they needed his knowledge to overcome Mikey and their remaining lackeys.

With his eyes closed, Mikey rubbed at his forehead with two fingers of his left hand and sighed.

“You’re spoiling all this for me again!” Mikey suddenly erupted, much to Gerard’s surprise. “When I want you to listen you don’t and when I don’t want you to you do!” he screamed. “I can’t handle this anymore Gerard! I can’t deal with you! All I want is a nice quiet life where, maybe a few times a week, I have someone to torture. Is that so much to ask?” he ranted gesticulating wildly, his eyes almost glazed with anger. “It never was before! Why did you have to make it about you? Every fucking time, Gerard! Every time! It’s always about what you want! I’m tired of it, I really am. When they make the chip work and it’s in you, I’ll control you, at last, and I’ll have that quiet life and you won’t be able to fuck it up! Again!”

Gerard’s eyes widened with each screamed word; he had never seen Mikey so enraged, nor so articulate about what he wanted. Was it really that he’d never tried to ask?

“I… I’m sorry, Mikes,” he stammered, not knowing what else to say to try to calm him. “Give me another chance. You can torture to your heart’s content!”  
“No,” Mikey shook his head vigorously from side to side. “That’s not enough now. I want more now. I know you’d enjoy it too, if you tried it.”  
“Me?” he stared blankly back before quickly regaining his composure. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be great,” he nodded. “Let me out, we can go upstairs and…”  
“No, you don’t understand,” Mikey shook his head. “When I say I think you'd like torture, I don’t want you to perform it.”

Mikey smiled cheerily as Gerard’s expression changed, subtly at first, before the full horror hit him.

“I want you to experience it,” he grinned menacingly.

 


	12. What's so funny?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How had this happened? Only hours earlier Gerard had everything he’d ever wanted and now he was utterly humiliated and afraid for his very life.

“M…Mikey?” Gerard stammered at the words. “You…you don’t mean that? You’re not serious!”  
“Of course I am,” the younger man frowned, puzzled by the question. “You know I don’t joke about this.”  
“But why?” Gerard gasped in return. “Mikey, I’m your brother!”  
“I know,” he nodded, still confused by Gerard’s response. “But you know it’s necessary. We always torture the people we’re putting the chips into. They have to be weakened first, you know that,” he laughed at his apparent memory lapse. “Really, Gerard, we’ve been doing this long enough.”  
“Mikey!” Gerard yelled, blindsided by his brother’s complete lack of empathy. “I’m your brother! You can’t do this to me!”

Mikey stared, his brow furrowed; he seemed to be considering Gerard’s words. In reply, Gerard’s eyes were widened and he was obviously in shock. Suddenly, Mikey’s expression softened.

“No, I can,” he finally announced. “I really can.”  
“Wait!” Gerard called after him as his brother turned to leave. “Where are you going?”  
“I have to get the room ready,” he replied over his shoulder from the stairs. “Is there anything you’d rather I didn’t do? You know, a concession, as it’s you.”  
“Let me out of here!” Gerard yelled in reply.  
“Oh, Gerard!” he laughed, amused by the response. “Of course I’m not going to do that!”

Still chuckling, Mikey ascended the stairs whistling a cheerful tune, completely oblivious to his brother’s distress.

“Mikey!” Gerard yelled after him, gripping the bars in frustration and hardly able to take in the absurdity and horror of his situation.

The door closed softly at the top of the stairs, plunging the basement into semi-darkness once more.

“Oh dear,” Frank chuckled. “Well, that didn’t go well at all, did it?”

Gerard lowered his eyes to stare at the man at the barred door opposite. Frank was enjoying this far too much, but what could he do? He couldn’t stop him and realistically, he silently admitted to himself, he couldn’t blame him. Never in all this time and the multiple arguments he’d had with Mikey did he ever think that anything like this could happen. Stunned and dumbfounded, Gerard was completely unable to formulate his emotions and could only stare, his eyes glazed.

Frank smiled in amazement of how quickly Gerard had fallen apart. 

“What are you looking at, Iero?” Gerard grumbled, half-heartedly.  
Frank’s smile broadened. “I’m looking at nothing,” he replied pointedly.

Gerard glowered with a mixture of frustration, tired anger and approaching defeat.

“Laugh if you like, Iero,” Gerard dug deep, despite himself, to lace his tone with scorn. “But you’re still locked up. Something of a hollow victory for you, isn’t it?”

Rising from his bunk, Ray walked the length of the cell and approached the bars slowly.

“It might be hollow, Gerard,” he forced himself to maintain eye-contact with his abductor, “but I long since resigned myself to the idea I’d never get out of here. How long is it going to take you to reach the same conclusion, I wonder?” Suddenly gripping the bars and pulling himself closer, two years of pent up rage, tore from his lips in a torrent. “He’s going to break you, Gerard!” he screamed. “He’s going to find all your weaknesses and use them against you, he’ll hurt you, emotionally, physically and mentally. You’ll be a wreck, a shell, you’ll be the nothing you are! And every time he throws you back in here, I’ll be right here laughing at you, Gerard.” Ray pushed his arm through the bars and pointed at the source of his torment, bitter hatred coating his words. “I’ll taunt you, I will point and I will laugh. I’ll enjoy every damn second of your pain and even though none of it will give me my life back, I’m going to love every moment watching the life and sanity ripped from you. Nothing he could do would be too cruel for you, not even sending you to Hell itself! You bastard! I’d do it myself if he’d let me!”

Exhausted, Ray exhaled sharply, dropping his head as he lowered his arm and turned away. He seemed almost to sag with the effort and Frank, stunned by the shock of his sudden outburst, but hardly surprised by the content of it, circled an arm around Ray and guided him back to his bunk.

Ray lay down, barely able to believe the level of emotion and energy that had flowed out of him with such raw passion and hatred. He closed his eyes. Frank doubted he would even remember falling asleep.

Frank looked back over to Gerard’s cell only to smile with satisfaction as he saw he had turned his back to the bars and slid down to the floor, his knees drawn up and his arms draped over them. Hunching forward, he appeared deflated. Whether he cared how Ray felt or not, and he doubted it, it seemed that the words at least had hit home. Mikey was going to destroy him, he would enjoy it and Gerard knew it. 

As Frank stared, a low groan and movement caught his attention. Bob was stirring.

“What the hell is all the noise?” Bob complained, his hands moving shakily to his head as the drug fuelled headache threatened to break through from behind his eyes.  
“Bob?” Frank called. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m great,” Bob grumbled, still with his eyes shut. “The top half of my head is missing, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

Frank smiled and he offered a light chuckle.

“Frank?” Bob sounded confused, as he forced one eye open. Looking around, he realised he ached in every muscle his back had and some he didn’t even realise existed.  
Pushing himself slowly upright into a sitting position, he took in his situation, desperately trying to remember the circumstances that brought him to this point.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he turned to see the barred door of the cell behind him. 

Turning fully, he saw Frank standing at the door of his cell diagonally opposite to the one he now found himself in. Using the bars to help pull himself to his feet, Bob wobbled slightly as his legs remained slightly weak – an after effect of the drug used on him. He took a deep breath. 

“Well, I guess I had to be surplus to requirements at some point,” he sighed, still struggling to remember what happened.  
“Oh, you’re not the only one,” Frank grinned. 

Bob’s forehead creased as he remembered seeing Ellen in the operating room. Mikey telling him he’d been tricked and… He remembered Gerard had been stabbed. That last point turned his deeply unhappy expression into a smirk.

“Mikey stabbed Gerard,” Bob smiled. It wasn’t much consolation for his current situation, but it was at least worth a smile.

Frank nodded to the cell next door to Bob’s own, his grin broadening as he did. Bob’s expression displayed his initial confusion, before the significance of Frank’s smile made itself known.

“In there?” Bob replied in kind, as a malicious smirk spread across his face. “Gerard? He locked him up?”  
“Better,” Frank beamed. “He’s setting up his room for him now.”  
“He’s…” Bob tilted his head; had he really understood the implication? “He’s going to torture him?”  
“Yeah,” Frank snickered. “He’s finally had enough of him.”

It started as a chuckle. Bob couldn’t even remember the last time he had laughed. It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten how, but the sound was so unfamiliar to him by now. The chuckle grew, in volume and intensity until he was laughing helplessly, resting his head on the bars as he grew slightly dizzy as his lungs refused to draw in enough breath. Glancing to his left, he caught sight of Gerard’s back still pressed up against the bars. Immediately, his knees sagged under him as he could no longer support himself, helpless with laughter. The more he laughed the more Frank laughed until the pair were almost crying. 

The idea seemed ludicrous to both of them. Nothing had improved for any of them, if anything it had worsened for Bob at least, but the months of tension and pain had suddenly found an outlet, however unusual, and they so desperately needed the release.

Gerard clamped his hands over his ears and rested his head on his knees. How had this happened? Only hours earlier he had everything he’d ever wanted and now he was utterly humiliated and afraid for his very life.


	13. You're In For Quite A Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, WARNING: This is gonna get nasty. Anyone who thought 'Such Bad Boys' was cruel - you're not going to like this. Seriously.

Gerard didn’t remember falling asleep. It had been one of those processes that had just happened naturally despite trying hard to stay awake. He knew he couldn’t stay awake indefinitely, but he had tried. He’d tried his hardest. Why? Because although he hadn’t seen this coming – nothing like this – he knew quite a lot about how Mikey’s mind worked. It made it worse somehow. Mikey always talked about fear of the unknown and Gerard accepted that to a certain point, but Mikey had seriously underestimated the power of fear of the known – especially when the question was when and not how or if.

He felt he had some idea of how. He’d seen many of Mikey’s methods over the years, but his brother still surprised him with ingenious variations on a theme. In the same way magicians were able to create new elaborate tricks that were often reworkings of old ideas, so would Mikey create some new agonising torture. Gerard had prayed that Mikey would come to his senses but as he slowly opened his eyes, he realised to his horror that Mikey had most definitely not.

Gerard ached, he ached all over. Every last inch of each of his muscles screamed at him. He lay partly on his side, partly on his back and yet at the same time curled into a tight ball. He couldn’t feel his hands at all and above all of the pain, his elbows and knees screamed the loudest.

Finally adjusting to the dim light, Gerard could see his predicament. He was still lying on the floor of the cell and opposite he could make out Ray and Frank staring at him. They looked pale, they actually seemed concerned. What was so bad that even they had been shaken at the sight of him?

Finally able to examine his situation, Gerard gasped, although the sound emerged virtually inaudible. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly, so much so that he could no longer feel them. His knees drawn up to his chest and his arms forced down either side of his legs as if he were hugging them. Through the gap above his elbows but below his knees lay a long iron bar threaded through preventing him from unfolding himself. He had no idea how long he had lain in this position, his back arched almost fully so his head was pulled over his knees and his legs bent forcefully and painfully in this fixed, tight position, but he now understood why all his muscles were begging to be released. 

He allowed his head to flop to the side, seemingly the only part of him that was able to move at all and he glanced at Ray and Frank. His eyes cried out to them silently for help. He couldn’t help himself, he was in so much pain, so much discomfort. He knew they couldn’t help, probably wouldn’t if they could, but he felt so desperate.

His gaze finally fell solely on Ray. The man had suffered so much and kept going, kept resisting him for so many months. It had taken the brothers so long to break him and here he was now, less than twenty-four hours into his own captivity and suffering and he was coming apart. His expression turned from bleak desperation to display a faint glimmer of respect. 

Something had made him realise that he had fully transitioned to being a prisoner. He had previously felt that it was just Mikey and one of his rages. He’d get over it, he’d free him and they would make up and all would be right in his world again. But this felt too real. More than that, it felt too well considered. Mikey had never used this before – was it something he had been saving for just such an occasion? Had he ever allowed his twisted mind to consider this situation in the past? He had. Gerard now knew he had. There was absolute certainty in his mind that Mikey knew exactly what he had in store for him; that he had played it over in his head hundreds of times. Possibly every time they had argued. 

Gerard swallowed hard. Despite the bonds holding him curled in a tight ball, he could feel himself trembling. This was all too real. He allowed his eyes to meet Ray and Frank’s again.

“We have to help each other,” he whispered in defeat. “He’ll kill us all otherwise. He doesn’t care about anything else.”  
“We know that, Gerard,” Ray replied quietly. “I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I’ve felt it, and so has Frank. Now it’s your turn.”

Gerard screwed up his face at the cold words he knew he deserved but couldn’t handle.

“Please?” he begged, hating himself for it.

Internally, Frank was smiling. He had expected to have to convince Gerard to help them all escape. He thought that he would be defiant and stubborn. He thought he’d have to do it quickly in case Mikey did change his mind. But here was Gerard, crumbling before his eyes. It was exquisite.

There was no time for a reply as the light came on to the clatter of feet on the stairs. Frank knew that the delay would hurt Gerard even more. Looking up he could see Mikey followed by two men descending the stairs. Mikey seemed to almost effervesce with excitement, a broad grin threatening to split his face in two as he approached Gerard’s cell.

“Finally!” he cried as he unlocked the door. “I didn’t think you’d ever wake up! We probably gave you too much chloroform, but that’s kind of good in a way.” 

He beamed as his eyes roamed over Gerard’s agonised form, the pain clear in his brother’s eyes. 

“How?” Gerard whispered, looking up at Mikey’s enthusiastic grin.  
“Well, now, let me see.” 

Mikey lowered himself and crouched next to him. Pulling at his lower lip with his teeth, Mikey pressed lightly on Gerard’s arm, receiving a grimace in response. Extending an arm, Mikey pulled down gently on Gerard’s bound ankles making his knees bend still further. The action caused Gerard to gasp in shock as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. Mikey placed his palms together as if praying and covered his mouth as he contemplated his next move. Standing up, apparently satisfied, Mikey nodded to himself.

“I’d say you were ready,” he smiled happily, before turning his head to smirk at Ray and Frank, still standing at their cell door. “Do you want to watch?” he asked sadistically, but seriously. “I have a viewing platform.”

Frank and Ray glanced at each other – was this the break they needed?

“You’ll be chained, of course,” Mikey added, with a smile. “But I thought you might like some entertainment.”  
“I’ll watch,” Bob growled from the next cell, having remained silent so far.  
“Oh, good,” Mikey sighed happily. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had an appreciative audience. I’ll get everything all ready and you’ll be brought up later.”  
“Mikey!” Gerard pleaded helplessly.

Mikey crouched down once more, turning gloating, almost wild eyes toward his brother.

“You see, Gerard?” he laughed. “And you thought nobody likes what I do! They all want to watch!”  
“Mikes, please,” Gerard’s brow furrowed deeply as he stared into his brother’s eyes, only now realising the extent of his unchecked, sadistic capabilities. 

Mikey rested his elbows on his knees as he crouched at his brother’s side and leaned forward, pressing his lips onto his interlaced fingers.

Raising his head slightly, his lips curled at the edges into a cruel smirk.

“Gerard, you’re staring into the abyss. Into a pit of madness that you’ll never leave. I’m going to take you down slowly, one level at a time. You’re going to feel everything. I’ve saved this all for you, my dear brother. Everything, all my best work, just for you. I know you’ve never really appreciated what I do, but after this, you’ll understand.” 

Mikey laughed softly and shook his head. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I accidentally gave you hope there. My bad. There is no after, Gerard. You know I can keep you alive. You won’t die at my hand,” the smirk grew wide, “but you’ll wish you could.”

Mikey rose smoothly to his feet once more to address the men with him.

“Take him upstairs,” he looked down once more at Gerard’s terrified expression. “The room’s all ready for him.”

One of the men reached for the bar shoved between Gerard’s knees and elbows and his breath hitched as he anticipated being released from the agony of the position he was held in. He knew that briefly the pain would increase, but at least there would be relief following. He heard Mikey chuckle and saw the other man reach for the opposite end of the bar. His eyes widened in horror as realisation dawned.

Screaming and trembling with blinding and excruciating pain, Gerard came close to passing out as both men lifted the bar and began to carry him up the stairs. His weight dragged agonisingly on the back of his knees and the rope at his wrists cut deeply, rubbing the skin off and causing the area to weep and bleed. Barely conscious now, he gasped for breath as his head lolled back, now so weak he was unable to support himself.

Mikey turned to follow the men before flashing a smile at his remaining prisoners.

“You’re in for quite a show, you know,” he grinned. “I should have brought popcorn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, yeah... If you hated it, I would call it quits here, if you haven't already!


	14. You spin me right round, baby, right round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Mikey have in store for Gerard and will Ray, Frank and Bob be forced to watch?

“What are we going to do?” Frank asked the moment the door at the top of the stairs closed.  
“Me?” Bob chuckled as he leaned on the bars. “I’m going to watch and I’m going to laugh till I pass out.”  
“I meant about escaping,” Frank frowned; he had no idea how long it would be before Mikey returned to take them to watch and he desperately wanted to formulate some sort of plan of action.  
“What can we do?” Ray asked, his shoulders sagged at the memory of Mikey's words. “He’s already told us we’ll be chained.”  
“This might be our best chance,” Frank insisted. “Our only chance, maybe.”

Ray shrugged, took a seat on the edge of the bed and stared at the his interlaced fingers resting between his knees. Of all of them, he knew what the brothers were capable of. What they had done to him over the years had brought him close to insanity on many occasions and he had often felt that he would prefer the release of madness. He didn’t know what had kept him from it, it certainly hadn't been hope. Was it strength? Did he actually have that level of will power? He doubted it, but here he was, confronted by a hopeful Frank and he was uncertain of what to do or how to feel. As he looked up once more, he saw Frank kneeling in front of him.

“What is it, Ray? What are you thinking?”  
“I…” Ray paused as he considered how he felt, what was running through his mind scared him. “I’m afraid…” he began, before looking down once more.  
“I am too,” Frank replied. “We’d be stupid not to be, but…”  
“No, you don’t understand,” Ray replied quickly, looking up, his face pale and drawn.  
“I do,” Frank nodded.  
“No, you don’t,” Ray’s expression and tone hardened. “I’m afraid that if I get the chance, I'll kill them.”

Frank sat back on his heels and stared up at Ray, suddenly noticing his fear and innate sadness morphing into hatred and anger. Years of captivity had forced him to repress his emotions merely to stay alive, but now, with the faint glimmer of hope lighting the darkest recesses of his mind, the anger was pushing forward. It was threatening to overwhelm him. With it, the last part of him that remained unbroken and lying deeply buried in his psyche was fighting this new, dark and frightening murderous response.

“You don’t want to?” Frank asked quietly, in what he hoped was a non-judgemental tone.  
“No,” Ray sighed. “But I might,” he added.  
“I would, if I were you!” Bob called from the opposite cell, unable to understand Ray’s torment.

Frank turned a frustrated and annoyed glare toward the blond man.

“What?” Bob raised his eyebrows.  
“You’re not helping,” Frank replied, the words spoken in a staccato fashion.  
“I only said…”  
“I know what you said,” Frank interrupted, irritated by Bob’s crassness, “but don't,” he snapped.  
“Bob’s right,” Ray admitted with a sigh.  
“See?”  
“No, he isn't,” Frank insisted. “You’re not like that, but you’re worried that they’ve changed you. You still want to be you?”

Ray looked down and nodded silently.

“What if we help you?” Frank asked, smiling as Ray lifted his head to listen. “What if we promise to stop you…?”  
“Hey!” Bob interrupted. “If killing them is the only way out of this, I'm not going to stop anyone.”

Frank looked down, frustrated as Ray seemed to retreat back into himself again. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? The truth was, he understood what Bob was saying too, but to get out they would all need to work together and, as much as he hated himself for it, Frank was willing to say almost anything to make that happen. Could he not see that?

“Bob is right,” Ray said again, his face slightly crumpled.  
“Damn it, Ray, I know he is!” Frank admitted to the surprise of both of them. “But, what if I say we’ll stop you if you go to do it just because you can, not because you have to?”

Ray looked into Frank’s eyes; he saw his desperation, his need to do or at least try something, anything. An escape attempt may not be possible, it might be the death of one or all of them but he so wanted to try. Frank barely knew him and was putting aside some of his own needs to try to understand him, to let him make the decision instead of trying to force him.

“Okay,” Ray nodded. “Whatever it takes.”  
“And no more,” Frank squeezed his hand.

*

“Mikey, please!” Gerard begged as Mikey fastened the last strap around his left ankle.  
“There,” Mikey stood back and smiled. “All done.”  
“What is this?” Gerard cast a terrified eye over the contraption he was fastened to.

Gerard lay shirtless and bound to what appeared to be some sort of giant turntable. Raised from ground level, Gerard had noticed as he was carried in that the area underneath the platform was filled with gears, pistons and hydraulics. Around the table were cabinets and shelves standing up to five feet high, stocked on one side with rope, chains, rings, handcuffs, tape, gags and strips of leather and cloth. On the other side, weights, a selection of knives, scalpels, scrapers, pokers, gouges, dental drills, and an assortment of everyday tools, such as hammers, pliers and saws. Alongside the platform stood a bank of levers and buttons that appeared to be a control desk of some sort. Roughly seven or eight feet above the platform, stood a wide circular track with sturdy looking attachment points.

“I told you before, Gerard, you never appreciated what I do. I knew it would come to this one day. You never listened to me, not once. You weren’t interested, were you, Gerard? But you’re interested now, aren’t you? You were so happy to leave all of the torture to me, because you believed that I was capable. For some reason you wanted to take it away from me, as if it never occurred to you that I love it. Has it occurred to you now, Gerard? Well, has it?”  
"Mikey,” Gerard gasped, “you’re right, I didn’t realise how much you enjoy it. If I had, do you think for a moment I’d have tried to take it away?”

Mikey quietly ran a gloved finger along the length of a scalpel, at first ignoring Gerard’s response.

“Mikey, give me another chance, please!” Gerard pleaded. “Now that I know what it means to you, I’ll make sure you always have someone to torture. I promise!”  
“You promise?” Mikey turned his eyes from the scalpel to frown at his brother.  
“Yes,” Gerard nodded eagerly. “I promise, I swear, Mikey. Please, you have to believe me.”  
“To answer your other question,” Mikey breathed on the scalpel, before shining it with a small cloth, “yes, I do believe you would have taken it away from me. I know that all you care about is your plan to control people. But you know, Gerard, you can’t control me, no matter how much you’d like to.”  
“I don’t want to control you, Mikey! Please, let me go. I can prove it to you.”  
“How?” Mikey frowned at the unexpected response.  
“Take Frank,” Gerard begged. “Do what you want to him. Kill him if you want! You know my plan won’t work without him, but I don’t care. All I want is for us to work together again.”

Mikey smiled. It was almost a pitying smile.

“I can’t do that, Gerard,” he shook his head slowly. “You see, all this?” He made a sweeping gesture with both arms. “This is all for you. I’ve been working on this for a very long time and to be fair, it’s been ready to use for about six months, but I wasn’t ready. I knew it was only matter of time, Gee, before your needs tried to overtake mine. The thing is, you never really considered my needs, but now you don’t have to. You’ve become my need and like I said, I’ve saved my best work for you.”

Moving over to the console, Mikey flipped what appeared to be the main power switch, eliciting a light hum from the small desk.

“I’m going to enjoy this, Gee, I really am. You... not so much.” 

Pressing two more switches, Mikey grinned at the sudden panic on his brother’s face as the turntable began to move, turning slowly at first whilst also wobbling up and down on a central axis so that Gerard was making a wide figure eight as the table turned.

“I wanted a gyroscope, but it just wasn’t practical, but this looks like fun,” he chuckled as the table spun and rocked with increasing speed.

Soon, if Mikey was speaking, Gerard couldn’t hear him. The roar of the hydraulics combined with the nausea created by the intense spinning and rolling motion meant that Gerard could hear nothing except his own internal voice begging him not to be sick. Only moments later, he felt a hot searing pain across his chest and looking down, he saw blood spraying out from a cut about three inches below his collar bone. As he continued to spin ever faster, he felt another slash of a sharp blade against another exposed part of his chest, swiftly followed by a third at right angles to the second. Only then did he realise that Mikey had attached the scalpel to a long pendulum and set it swinging across him.

“Mikey! Please!” He cried as the scalpel continued to slash repeatedly, only barely breaking the skin, but enough to bleed and hurt.

Gerard began to grow accustomed to the noise of the table as it spun, but wished he hadn’t as over the deep rumble, he could hear Mikey cackling and clapping in sadistic delight.

*

As he got to his feet, Frank looked up to the top of the stairs as once again the door opened. This time only the two men who had accompanied Mikey descended. Frank’s heart leapt; three of them against two. Was it possible that they could overpower them? Although with the chip already implanted into Ray able to cause extreme pain, even death, it could well just be him and Bob. But they had need and desperation on their side; it was surprising what was possible with those in your corner.

“You,” one of them called to Ray. “Over here, turn around, hands behind your back.”

Frank watched quietly as Ray rose from the bed and did as ordered. As one of the men closed a pair of handcuffs on Ray’s wrists, he noted every detail he could, even from which pocket the man fished the cuffs.

“Now you,” the man indicated to Frank as the other went to attend to Bob.

Frank took a few cautious steps toward the bars, just before he turned, he caught a glance from Bob; a soundless warning that he was going to try something. Placing his hands behind him, Frank heard a soft clink as the metal cuff knocked against one of the bars as the man pushed them through. Turning quickly, Frank caught the man by his arm before he managed to close the cuff on Frank’s wrist. Pulling sharply, Frank dragged the shocked man towards the bars, grinning with delight as the man’s forehead collided against the bars of the cell with a bone cracking crunch. The man’s eyes rolled back and momentarily he remained standing before sinking to the floor. At the sound, the second man turned his head, forgetting how close he was to Bob’s cell. Within moments, Bob had the man pinned with his back against the bars with his arm around his neck. Pulling and clawing at Bob’s arm, the man tried to squirm out of his hold only to find his grip tightening.

“Stop struggling,” Bob growled, “or you’ll stop breathing. Got it?”  
“Yeah,” the man choked out as his struggles came to an abrupt halt. “But you’re going to have to let me go or kill me. Either way, you won’t get out.”  
“You expect me to believe that neither of you have the keys to these cells? You came to take us upstairs, that means you have the keys.”

The man grimaced at the undeniable logic and began to struggle once more. In moments, he stopped, gasping in pain as Bob landed a heavy punch to one of his kidneys.

“Now, are you going to tell me where the key is, or do I have to use my belt to tie you by your neck to this bar and search you myself?”  
“I’ll give it to you,” he replied, moving his hand to his pocket.  
“No,” Bob tightened his grip, causing the man to pull once more on his arm while his face reddened dangerously. 

Reaching down to the man’s pocket, Bob fished out a small handgun. Sucking in air through his teeth, Bob tutted his disappointment. Lifting the gun to the man’s head, he relaxed his grip around the man’s neck slightly.

“Well,” he chuckled, “You have a choice. You can tell me where the key is or I blow your head off, then I shoot the lock. Either way, we’re out of here.”  
“Not really a choice, is it?”  
“Not so much,” Bob agreed, pulling the gun’s hammer back.  
“It’s in my jeans’ pocket.”  
“Get it then, slowly and with two fingers only.”

Obeying, certain that Bob had taken more than enough from the brothers and would make good on his threat, the man slowly pulled the key from his pocket.

“Now, throw it backwards so it goes into my cell.”

Smiling at the light tinkling sound, Bob gently lowered the pistol’s hammer.

“Now, I’m going to knock you out. But, if it turns out that that isn’t actually the key, you aren’t going to wake up. So, is it the right key?”  
“Yeah, I swear,” the man choked out.  
“Wait! Will it open this one too?” Frank asked quickly, looking up from searching the other man’s pockets.  
“Yeah,” Bob confirmed as he brought the butt of the gun down sharply on the back of the man’s head and allowing him to fall. “All the locks are the same.”

Picking up the key, Bob smiled triumphantly as the key turned easily in the lock and the door swung open.

“Let’s get them in a cell and get out of here,” he announced, crossing to Frank and Ray’s cell to let them out.  
“What about Ray’s handcuffs?” Frank asked.  
“Did you find a key?” Bob asked with a frown.  
“No,” Frank replied, concerned.  
“Hang on,” Bob turned and kneeling down, turned out each of the other man’s pockets until a second key emerged. “Got it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while. Sorry about that, kinda lost my train of thought on this one, but it seems to be back on track now.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it :P  
> Sas xx


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